A tribute to Alan Watts

There’s an odd word in Welsh,


that means 

missing someone you’ve never met

It’s funny how often I feel it when I think of you

fingers lightly brushing the leaves of overgrown thickets

in Kent, while the War raged

Salt spray mingling with your beard

as you watch seagulls and crabs knocking on doors

in the oldest of dances

I can hear your voice in the rustling of the grass

the gentle wind, your breath

A dandelion lifted up on your current

as you meditate on the intelligence

of plants

Where are you now, Alan?

and will we see you again?

You’d answer, does it matter?

And we’d all laugh

And remember

Until we meet, my friend,



7 thoughts on “A tribute to Alan Watts

  1. Been catching up on the Blogs. Allen is someone who sang to my heart in a way I could understand and appreciate. He was influential in my desire to sing too! I loved how he seem to be aware of speaking with me and not “At Me.”
    Deep Bow to you,

    Liked by 1 person

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