The colors grab me… the thought is alluring to my mind and imagination… the morning speaks of potential… of promises to keep… of wonders not yet reached… there is promise in the morning… the breaking of the darkness… the slipping of light from over the horizon… knot much makes sense to me after dawn… knot much at all in the hectic reflections of the day… in the dawn I see the potential of what today can and should be… the colors of the dawn ask me to walk with them… to spend my moments dreaming… to find my pathway in the colors… and even if the day holds not the sun butt the rain to walk with in the water… to celebrate the splashing of water upon the waves… to listen for the deep sighs of wonder… there should be more to consider then a single solution… more to ponder then a single reflection in the morning there is that… there is as many ideas as one can bring to mind… take me by the hand and sit with me on the edge of the day and watch the sun color the world… I can wish for many days and find them all walking along a single path… butt spend one day watching the sun rise and it puts all the days I spent hustling around not noticing aside… let the colors grab hold of hue… then take you in… there is water in the sky as one walks in the rain… and then the sun rises and clears away the clouds and leaves me breathless… it leaves me standing in the colors as they illuminate the world around me…

The words I seek… escape me… the words I wish to find… elude my lips… my imagination is empty… and yet I am alive with expression… perhaps that is the dilemma… to have something to say and to lack the ability…

There is a fog over me… a permanent mist that clouds my mind… this is perhaps the jungle that captivates me… or more captures me… for I am not captivated by the mist… as much as I am captured by it… trapped within the walls… wandering about aimlessly attempting to find my way by feel more then sight or sound… for within the mist sight is limited to just before my eyes and sounds are scattered about in the dullness of the heavy air… so what I hear is not directional butt I do hear things… just no way of telling where they come from… so the sense of touch becomes that much more important…

Often I feel out of sync with who I am… often I feel cruel about myself… about my past… present and future… often I sense in me a reluctance to step outside the frame work of my being… often I hide in the confines of my imagination… often I prefer the comforts of home to the uncomfortable association with other people… often the words I find most are ones that are critical of myself… I find it easier to believe the worst of me then the best of me… I know there is light on the other side of this tunnel… I know in the span of my life time this is butt a small parcel of land… I know that I am not allowed what I allow others… that I am held to a much higher standard then those who walk with me… I feel lost at times in the fabric of my being… I spent today reading… tired from the festivities of yesterday and having little sleep I felt I needed the day to just breathe… and so I did and I am getting the reaction of being lazy or unmotivated… because I wished not to spend today in any other way then to just be… perhaps that is… often I feel that I am lost and will never be found…

All things begin and end… we have moments that span both spectrums… we gain and we lose… we expose and we hide… in my deepest fears there is only darkness and insecurity… in my brightest moments light… a sense of purpose… there is that sense I will never grasp… and some that will elude me… I have a knack for saying the wrong things… for not being what I should be… there are things that one cannot excuse or forgive and I over stand that… what is done is truly done and forever the road is tainted by the missteps made and the ones that continue to be made…

A certain series of thoughts has wondered though my mind… they play upon aspects of the past… I have never been nor I suppose will I ever be a person who others see as being good… as in a good friend… neighbor… associate… it is not my way or style to be that… I have never been one who wishes to build connections and work at them… for me they are either there or they are not… they exist or they don’t exist… many years ago I found a thread in me… and it some what explained me to me… I often wondered about the lack of glue… adhesion that others seem to have instinctively that I lack… while others connect and bond I have never been able to do so except in rare situations and circumstances… try as I might the threads simple connect they do not bond me… they just connect me… and I do try… I do reach out and misstep and put myself out there… and I fail a lot… a great deal… I fail to be the person others see me as… or wish me to be… I connect butt I do not bond…

I have said time and time again that I possess know great skill or ability… that I am not the master of anything other then myself… and even there I lack continuity… that does not mean I know longer think or feel or consider… it just means I stop voicing my thoughts…

Some times doors should close silently and other times they should close with a loud bang… it is time to close a few doors…

In life we have times when all we share is a thought… all that holds us together is the shared experience of a moment in time… for me that is a volume of inspiration… it takes on a meaning all its own… I am often lost in my wanderings and it helps to have focus of one kind or another… as long as each has an over standing of where they are going… in what direction their mind moves them… it is true I am lost on my means to get where I wish to be… however I am not lost in knowing where I wish to be… so thoughts are shared… and there is hope that this particular path will fade and once more the threads will find substance to explore…

We are who we are at the time we are… only means that is what we have learned from our experiences so far… we are not born with anything butt a fear of loud noises and heights… we learn everything else… in fact we learn them very well… we learn so well we gather to us many threads of our experiences that add little to our experiences… we gather fear… anxiety… and forget to gather a love and lust for life… we shudder ourselves within the confines of definitions… of categories… or expressed opinions… and forget that we are suppose to live happily… joyously… we structure our life in straight and narrow steps of routines… forgetting that our minds love a routine… butt we only learn from what is new and different… we strive to put things into structure but we truly only gain the wonder and joy of living by experiencing life outside the structures we design for ourselves… all we have with us now is what we have learned… call it what you wish to call it… a diagnoses… a condition… a chemical imbalance… a predisposition… at the core of it we are people who learn how… with a few exceptions… this is what our experience in life has taught us to be…

We are capable of leaping beyond what we are defined as… we are capable of refusing to believe what we are told… we are capable of putting aside the inner voices for we know in our minds witch one is real and witch one is the voice of unreason… the one that we should listen to and the one we should ignore… we are the creation of our choices… our steps… and yes we do know witch one is witch… in fact it is easy to remember… to recall how to pull apart the pieces and keep the ones that bring you peace… happiness… joy and a lust for life… and leave what is left behind…

To a lesser or greater degree luck does play into what we accomplish… some times we make our own luck… some times we manage to deal with what life places before us with ease… at other times our luck is of the other variety… that is to say we have not done what is correct and we are captured in the spiral of luck that is darker then we would like it to be…

Doing the right thing at times does put us at odds with the law… the question is do we take the risk or the chance and do what is right or do we obey the law as it is written… there are occasion when one should say the hell with the law and do what is right… and then others where we must be diligent in following the letter of the law…

There does come a time when each of us uses up the generosity of another…we just get there… how is a mystery butt eventually the generosity index is no longer in our favor… we make our own favors… and we make our own way in life… and eventually we have to face the fact that we are responsible for what we do… and while we can state the reasons for our actions… our actions can still be held as being against the rules… so when we use up the generosity of others… where then do we turn…

The thought shelters me… the perceived shield shelters me… the storm may rage on around me butt eventually it will pass and with it the lessons learned… the skills acquired will be there for the next time… often in life it is not what happens… butt how we respond to what happens… how we learn from what occurs in our life… thoughts will shelter us… beliefs can wrap us in a sense of security… still life happens… and then we need to respond… we need to step out of the protection of our own making and deal with the world… and in so doing we become alive… we become engaged in the reality… embraced by the wonder of each day… it is more secure sheltered from the storm that rages… butt it lacks a certain wonder… a certain edge that is required…

Some storms rage for an hour and then are gone… some last a day or two… some pour out their anger in a brief moment before dissipating… and some linger in the shadows for a life time… how the storm finds its way into and out of your life is often how we perceive it… as a lesson… as a means to gain a skill or as a road block to what we desire… some will rage for a life time… some will come in and out of your life in the blink of an eye… they all have the purpose of unsettling… of change… of bringing in another element that is required… and we are forced to deal with the storm as in arrives… as it is driving and as it leaves… the aftermath… are we learning… are we gaining from the experience… these are all questions to be asked afterwards… for eventually the levee does break… and the water does wash it all away…

It is time to move on… to put aside the immediate… to forge ahead into the mist… the choice is a difficult one… to move on with the path I am on… to allow choice from the other side of the equation… and to let it be…

The rain has not stopped nor put aside its rhythm… at once intense… then a light drizzle… then once more the clouds open and we sit in among the deluge… a slow peaceful walk in the silence of the night… too much to drink… too much to eat… too much of everything of late… the wagon is plunging quickly down the hill and the breaks are failing… the rush of the water fills my ears as the river over runs its banks… we roll from the dry to the muddy to the raging torrent of rapids… from the dry road to the water road… to the mountains to the sea… to the very edge of my sanity to the limit of my imagination… the rain has not stopped and will not butt for a glimpse of what can be… and then another drop of rain will fall… another drenching of the emotional waves will rise up from the forest of our dreams… we manage to find our way… to swim when it is necessary to ride out the storms when caught in the open… to sit on the dry shore high above the water’s edge and wait out the raging torrents… the long slow drizzle has become our natural companion… it does make the world green… the flowers bloom while creating an appreciation for the wondrous blue skies that appear just above the clouds…

Some things vibrate the world at a very distant sort of rhythm… others capture it in a loud scream… the motor is running it seems to say… the time is drawing closer and closer… when is our time ours and when is our time devoted to another for the price of being who we are… when the loud vibration stops… when the rhythm of our beings come to center and we are at peace the time is ours… the moment one we should cherish…

A slow start today… to be expected as it was a long night last night… I slip a lot more lately… a find myself rolling down the hills after only a few steps forward… perhaps it is the age… or the indifference… perhaps it is my state of moodiness or mind… lately I lack the courage or maybe it is the conviction of my degrees of thought… I wish I was the monster… I am not… I am not the wild… or am I innocent… I am partially completely to blame… or maybe the way to say that is that I am a product of my own choices and while some circumstances were beyond my control… most were well within my realm…

The dances slow down as we find our rhythm… we find that slow and steady is a more enchanting pace then the quick… pace… style… influence how we embrace the world… a short in the dark toward the heavens… a lasting streak of light… that flashes across the sky leaving a bright memory… or the one that dawns upon you each day… the one that holds you close each evening… the fabric of your life or a wish upon a falling star… instant or patience… the here and the now or the here there and everywhere… is it the moment we desire or the life time of desire… each is in one place or the other at times in our lives… each fails to realize and is completely taken by one extreme or the other… the blazing passion of the moment… the here and the now… the need that consumes… or the heat of the fire that ignites the passion day upon day…

Wet to the core of my being… drenched to the very marrow of my bones… the weight takes its toll… the struggle to remain within the fabric of my clothes… wanting to slip them off and leave them by the side of the road… to walk naked in the downpour… to let my body pull free of the burden of the dampness… this is what it feels like…perhaps it is the weather taking its toll upon me… a slow drizzle of swirling rain… wanting shelter from this storm… to slip within the folds… to sit beneath a shelf of solid rock and watch from a distance myself slipping and sliding… and knowing that eventually one has to let go the tangled web of what has been lost and allow each to find their way…

The volcano sits across the open water a slow peaceful hazy rises over… in the silence of this morning as the air warms to the sun… I sit on the shelf… I sit upon the rocks made by the shifting earth beneath… a few worn to the smooth surface… a few captured… some used to build… others used to protect… life goes on… the forces of nature push the formations up and away from the burning inferno… stirring the heat to a flowing tangle of molten lava… across the water is the reminder… of what it takes… of what the outcome is… the stirring of the stormy waters to reach beyond where one is to reach across time to fly across the sky… one must be the volcano… one must be the inferno… in times when it looks peaceful and serene the forces of nature are still within stirring the molten heat ready to explode at any instant in time…

In silence I weave… in silence I sing to the night sky looking down upon me… in silence I greet the dawn… in the depth of my wishes there are dark ones as well as bright ones… and while one is smarter the other steps forward to be the catalyst…

Most of what is happening is the search for the right way or series of words… most of what is happening is the unfolding of the thoughts as haphazard reflections… in truth I am not returning kind for kind or stroke for stroke… what I am doing is the best I can with what is within me… I miss a great deal in the words of others… placing my mirror over theirs… or my filters over the pictures they paint… truth is… for the most of us our lives are truly interesting… we have small bumps in the day to day… what we complain about in the scope of true hardship is minor… we have been led to believe our lives are struggles… that we have to put our nose to the grinding stone and press on in spite of what life places before us… when in truth we should move toward being happy all the time… our focus in life should be how do we enjoy today…

Each has their own thought process… each see in the other a way to be… each regards what is before them as a pleasure in some way… each has a degree of wonder within them… each is a slice of the other and a peace of the other… each is an inspiration and a source of solace from the world… each is the motivation and the place we go to find our center… each has their own way to reach out and find their bearings in the fog that life can some times be… we do what we must do to be who we must be… and some times we find the course difficult not because it is… butt because we our… we our the barrier to our own success… we are the walls and the bridges and the castle battlements that we fight against… when we learn with peaceful reflection that while others can say no… it is we who choose to accept or reject that opinion…

One road is a smile… the other road is bliss… the other is a bit more or less… another is a balancing act… still another asks a great deal… while another asks nothing… the world is filled with choices we have to make as to what road we take… often we find the path that will give us the least resistance… in finding our way we make choices some are mistakes… some are not… some are for the best… some teach us lessons in a more harsh environment then others… would we choose to them again… the outcome is the person we are… would we choose to change that by not following in our footsteps… perhaps I would be different had I knot chosen certain ways… perhaps I would be the same lost soul I am some times… in many ways I am the liar… the thief… the criminal mind… in other ways I am just a common man… I am a realist about myself… I know the difference between the façade and the reality…

Singular words create flux… taken out of context… each word is an island of its own… a varied island of sights sounds and texture… each word fills the vacuum of your mind with a variety of images… they are the rocks that create the foundation… the source of your skills to speak… each is its own wondrous apparition…

Take a walk with me… it feels like rain… the kind of rain that reaches inside your body to your bones… a soaking sort of rain that chills one in difference to the temperature… it sticks to you… the wet… the damp… the cold of your skin… take a walk with me… take a few minutes and just be… just walk in silence along the edge of the river and be there… be there without a thought or a reason… it feels like rain… a deep soaking rain… let the weather play its game… let the reality of today wash away… let the dampness of time slip across your mind and mine… take my hand and let it rain… let it be… let it rain… rain… rain… let the river rise and the ocean churn… let the skies open and deposit on the land all that the soil can handle… let the water run deep… let the skies grow dark and full of light… take a walk with me… take a few minutes…

The avenue in witch ones thoughts wander is how one should wander with them… some times it is important to just let the path be taken… to knot think at all butt feel a bit more… yes it is important to think… to use your brain… butt that does not mean we put aside all feeling… in point of fact it means we feel deeply… just some times we over think what is before us… some times we place so much on the thinking part we forget to feel the moment as it should be felt… some times thought is the non-essential element or secondary to what we feel… that is not to say we should ever stop thinking and just allow our emotions to rule us… the use of our brains is what separates us from the animals that surround us… yet at times we do act as the animals… we allow response to be the rule of our actions…

Follow the rule as it caters to the edge of our existence… follow the heart as a song… edge the mind in different theories… pick one and follow it forward… ask only the opportunity…

The theory is that as we move forward in time with time… we tend to believe that we owe each other a gift for existing… we are not our fellow man’s keeper… it is not my task to care for another… it is their task to care for themselves… it is to each that the task of taking care is asked… and we define who we are by how we take a hold of that path in our lives…

Each word written in a paragraph… each sentence an entire complete text… when taken together we find the end as we found the beginning… a series of thoughts that lead some where… just where is not obvious… butt it can be as silly as the bad and the good coming in slight differences… but I have little I can use and a lot I can find… I have learned over time that I know very little and the journey to finding out more has been a wondrous one… as we share the words of our minds… as we use our thoughts and our brains to unravel the complexities of each day we step a bit closer to being the true person we always have been… it is easy to fall prey to the alternative thoughts… to wander on the other side of the equation and fill our days with expectations… I would rather wait for the stream of thought that opens a particular door and walk through it with confidence… all thought is valuable… if only to stir debate… and debate is what changes the world… different thoughts…

Swing low… swing high… butt swing… take advantage of the opportunity… easy it is to stand aside… easy it is to allow another to choose… we are the masters of our own making… we drive the bus… we are the masters of our destiny… should we not be in charge…

The more I read the less I find interesting… open the mind and it takes in all sorts of things and ideas… I am easy that way… conservative by nature… I can be swayed by the next new idea… what is in it for me… is a very powerful motivating force… and while that may seem greedy it is not… what it is… is correct… we do what comes to our mind for a profit… charity itself grants us a profit of good feelings… altruism allows us to use what we have gained in alternative ways… many a great set of accomplishments have funded treasures we would not other wise have… from the profit of our minds comes the ability to share the wonders of life… life is about living… not about sacrifice… we do not give up what we do for another… we take care to profit from what ever we do…each act requires a payment in kind…

I am far from a creative anything at all… my particular talent is in organized thought… a particular ability to place things in sequence… not very original… but some what useful… my mind is not creative in ways that would be helpful to generate profit from ones talents… I lack the over standing of specifics… I also lack the particular nuances of other places… living in the United States there are lot of opportunities that exist that are not as easily reached in other places… not that we are better it is just we are more open to what a person can do… there is not a limit placed on anyone… by anyone… only by themselves… so I am not a good judge of creativity or the pathway another should take… my particular thoughts are ones that say… experiment… test… enjoy… and you will find what suits you…

Real dreams are an avenue of exploration… real dreams allow my mind to embrace thoughts that perhaps I have left open or not even captured… in real dreams I run… I do… I capture… I love more fluidly then in the reality of my life… it is some what different in dreams then in reality… and yet surreally the same… when I walk upon the astral plain and wander here and there… when I allow myself the pathways to find room within the rooms I am told and held in a more compromised position… real dreams allow me the wonder of sleep… the peacefulness of repose… and the open avenue to be…

The fabric tares… a rendering of the seam… a biased sort of leaning to one side then another… a couple of thoughts elude me… and a couple more come dead center perfect… we can know a little bit about a lot butt we never know all there is to know until we are given the right to know more… and even then there are certain aspects that will forever remain in darkness…