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FROM READERS: 'Someday I will Rest' questions true meaning of rest, relaxation

Monday, January 20, 2014 | 6:00 a.m. CST; updated 5:51 p.m. CST, Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Michael Tomkins has been a commercial videographer, a counselor, a garbage man and worked with troubled adolescents. He's lived in an alternative living ranch in southern Missouri, hitch-hiked around the western and southwestern states and has lived a year out of mainstream society (something he thinks everyone should do). Currently he drives a truck, but he'd like to quit and travel in India.

"Someday I will Rest"

Someday I am going to rest.

Not like I’ve done before

I mean Rest.

 

I’ve not figured out how to do this though,

Nor do I claim to know what it truly is.

Or really ……

 

What I mean to say, I can only dream.

Words give it no brilliance.

Sentences demean it.

 

It is kinda like a sunrise on a cold frigid winter,

Glistening snow crystals in an open field.

As a fox in fluffed red coat sits hunched and stares patiently.

 

Or a crescent moon, a smile, laying low

Above a gulf stream

Sending warmth and calm in all direction.

 

A lone dove silently swimming a blue clouded sky?

What of hammocks gently swinging in warm summer eve?

A large Bur Oak spread in all its might,

A weed with beautiful bloom dandelioned in sidewalk crack.

 

Rest, a take away from worldly hassle, a moment.

No ill feeling…no fear…no frustration or anger.

Nothing to worry over, a floating moment in constricted time.

 

Would I even exist if I dared to?

What would become if me if I truly Rested

Let all go, give up my control!

Now, I don’t know about that!!

 

This Rest I talk about is more than sleep.

It is more than relaxation.

It is everything or maybe nothing.

 

No-thing to be

No-thing to want

No-thing to fear

No-thing to………., know what I mean?

 

What the hell would that be like?

Would it be heaven or what I’ve already said?

What would I think of! Oh my

What would I become!?

 

If I ever truly Rested would society embrace me?

I imagine I would be hard managed.

I imagine I would not care much in its dear way.

 

Well, it don’t matter.

I do not know what Rest truly is.

 

This story is part of a section of the Missourian called From Readers, which is dedicated to your voices and your stories. We hope you'll consider sharing. Here's how. Supervising editor is Joy Mayer.

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