Letter to Monty with a fuddled head

Dear Monty,

Remembering 11/11/12

Walking the waterfall woodland of Ystradfellte with Charles Hawes.

We saw the  sheer beauty and power of water cutting through rock - of trees grasping soil through shaped formed roots following rock contours. Colour blazed now and then - orange yellow red. Green tinge to the back of a red-breasted robin.

Mud - thundering water - waterproofs proved.

No proof or evidence for faith.

The curse is knowledge - knowledge is the curse - we know too much.

Remembering  - not the fallen dead

Though I do remember them - but do not stop - no silence.

Remembering the pain that knowledge brings

From having minds which contemplate both good - and evil

Which understand and misunderstand

Judge and misjudge

Knowing that life is finite and full of fears - joy - tears.

It means we watch ourselves grow old

Remembering youth - energy

But perhaps old age is another stage

Set for playing out  a role

'Senior citizen'

Holder of secrets - of wisdom

Knowing failure and success

Knowing the bones of ourselves

Knowing the good we have done - as well as the evil.

Perhaps we are making ready for the grave

Some do not go gently - some rage

But now - right now I am resolved

Centred by death and life - anothers' death  - the death of death and life of life

This is my remembrance day.


  1. Wonderful waterfalling, Paul.
    Yes, there's something about not being able to remember, about forgetting, about simply responding to where you are, that has great appeal.
    You cannot remember too much. You don't want to. Far better to let it wash on out of us and away, like these waterfalls.
    Remember only to be awake, to be open and to forgive.


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