Prose that reads like Poetry

I paraphrased and titled this piece of Elizabeth Kubler Ross:

Our Purpose

Whether or not we understand fully who we are

or what happens when we die;

it is our purpose as human beings

to look within ourselves,

to find and build our individual

strength and understanding.

And then reach out to others,

with love, acceptance, and patient guidance;

in hope of what we may become together.

This one is another "Author Unkown" I found it in a 1961 edition of Friendship magazine put out by Ideals Publishing Company:

May Evening Find Me Gentle

Give me a few friends who will love me for who I am

or am not.

Keep ever burning before my wandering steps

the kindly light of hope.

And though age and infirmity overtake me

and I come not in sight of the castle of my dreams,

teach me still to be thankful for life

and time's old memories that are good and sweet.

And may the evening twilight find me gentle still.

I Am Sky poem written last night while trying to read

Clouds flow through me

day and night.

Stars shine in me

night and day.

I am Sky.

In the presence of water

I am sacred.

In the stillness of trees

I am in awe.

In the grace

of the godly Now,

I am.

How did the cake come out?

Well, the one with 6 eggs and without 6 tsp. flavorings. Not so hot. Maybe literally. I don't think the 275 degree setting was hot enough. There was an air bubble under where I did the toothpick test, so it came out clean enough, but it wasn't really done all the way through. Now why couldn't I have just thrown all those cracked eggs out? Why add good cake flour and sugar first. Ah well.



The other cake, the one with the butterscotch sauce, that one came out good. The good people at Unity of the Huachucas liked it well enough to eat all but 4 pieces in the 9"x13" pan. John, who seldom eats sweets, had a good size piece when I got home and pronounced it, "Good." A man of very few words, my John.