little dried rose petals
hung by the door
where old photos tell
stories sung long before
back country river trips
long, lazy summer days
jungle wildflower blooms
river rapids’ misty haze
lyrics in foreign tongue
melody sweet now begun
holding echoes of daylight
shadows my thirsty night.
maysa-maria kristina gadelha peterson
“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.” ― Joseph Campbell
Mozambican-born Portuguese South African; reflecting on travel, writing, editing, life, family and change that has social impact; chief wide eyed in wanderer, wonderer and bottlewasher
Sharing writing tips, information, and advice.
The Path Towards Transformation
Providing guidance on the journey to mature masculinity
"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things." Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
