Only so much is possible… only a small portion in reality is ever truly known… that fact however does not limit us from the need or the want to know more… that curiosity can be a wonderful element of a relationship… or it can be the straw that fractures it into many pieces… the thought of moderation sits well here… know what you can and be curious about what you have yet to know… in that way I believe you hold a safe balance…

Action… reaction… when we are in the midst of free spirits we tend to take on their persona… we tend to feel the energy of their art and it does influence us to be a bit more edgy… a bit more loose in an artistic sense… we have the freedom to experiment when we are in the company of experimenters… it does not matter that we are leaping or taking huge gigantic strides… what matters is that we feel comfortable enough to explore the new potential that is open to us… so as the actions generate reactions we get to turn the page and leap… stride or perhaps just sit in peaceful solitude of mind and open a book to a passage that reminds us of some thing sweet or mellow and waste a minute… share a secret… share a soulful tune…

You can’t always get what you want… you get what you need… is a very appropriate lyric time and time again… for in truth we do want and long for certain paths and it is funny how the universe aligns to appear as if we are heading that way and then suddenly the world shifts hard to one side or the others and we find exactly what we need staring back at us eye to eye and wonder… where did what we want go and how did we get here exactly… it takes a few twists of the arms to realize that we do get exactly what we need… time after time…

If you explore the art of my words you will know me in a very intimate way… perhaps better than one who is close to me that for whatever reason is unable to… one can never be a prophet in their own land… I laugh about that fact time and time again… I laugh because know one here shares my passion for writing or exchanging letters… this is my private place… I guess we all need that and I have been a much more centered person because of it… would I share this with them… perhaps… just never comes up in the conversations is all… they see I am a happier more well adjusted person then I used to be… so if this is what it takes to reach that plateau… more power to it… like I say time and time again… a great many walk by… a few stop to read the writing on the wall… a select few of those reach beyond and participate in the challenge… and of those a small number capture the essence of it… they get the sharing of the art… the raw nakedness of it… and they are willing to be part of it… so beware over time you will catch a glimpse of passing shadows and wonder who resides in them… or dream of a tree at rest in the middle of a wide field surrounded by a winding stream filled with the sounds of voices all laughing and enjoying life… and in that dream you will feel at home… for you will be… surrounded by all the kindred souls who share the same exact dream…

Editors… like to earn their keep… polish this section here… add a bit here… take some from there… in the world of publishing they are the guides to a successful ending… of course you could do what most true authors do… give them what they want butt keep a certain few for yourself and close others in the original form… so yes you can run a billion of these butt make a hundred like this for me… or ten or what ever… it is a nice way of saying I over stand your need to cull the heard here for the general consumption butt there are ones who I know who will want the artists own edition… in today’s world anything can be done… and suspect it is done…

We do build way too many walls and far too few bridges and after a time we get captured behind those very walls we built to protect ourselves… so it is important to slide out from behind the closed doors and find our way back out of doors to waltz in the fields… to sit in the summer sun and be warmed by the air wrapped in a perfect smile content to just be there in the perfect summer moment… so perhaps today we should take down a wall and build a bridge… we should find a means to link the shores in an constant flow of thought…

You are a very gifted craftsperson of thought… your messages are filled with sparks and shards and even the occasional flash of brilliance that touches off a firestorm of words in response… you will knot know more than the flow tells you… the length and breadth of the responses should be an indication of the inspiration you provide… the typical you are not… and that is so rare and unique… the computer counts the words as I write and I am amazed at the volume of this month… how many words were shared specifically with you… or shared with you… or inspired by you I have no real way of knowing… butt what I do know is that it is a lot and a lot is just what is required for me to find the diamonds among the many… my need or desire is has in all ways been to share the flow of this stream of consciousness in a way that sparks fires and thoughts… perhaps inside a single passing is a single word that opens a door for you to finish a passage or to start one that has been lingering there… I have no idea other than a certainty to respond in kind to every stroke of your genius… for it is that…

The circle of conversation follows along many lines… in the course of a time all subjects get touched upon… births… lives… deaths… that is what life is… the joys… the sorrows… the working through the daily struggles… the pains… the slings and the arrows… dealing with first loves… first kisses… marriages… children… work… family… illnesses… and on top of all that our own emotional needs and desires… and here we share the depth of who we are… so we hope that eventually as we pour the bounty of our thoughts into the pages that at some point some one catches the deep emotional waves… and rides it for a time and can land upon the sands of time some where and feel the passion in every fiber of their being as we do in ours…

The forest is a single tree standing next to another single tree… and so on scattered for miles in every direction and yet it is still all captured within the realm of one single tree… and if you study that tree closely you will know the forest and all its wonders…

The only truly sure way of ending a love is by holding onto it and not letting it grow as it should… love grows as it is freed… encouraged to be true to itself… when we give it wings and teach it to fly we are allowing for the best potential and allowing freedom of choice… a freedom to do what is best… what is in their nature to become… and that freedom means they will venture forth and be the best person they can… when we create that in the love we have for another they remain close to us… when we hold onto them and crush them to our breast we kill the love we seek to have… it is as simple and as easy as that… butt oh so much more difficult to grasp…

We seek balance as a means to have time for all that we desire in our life… we seek the balance of the times we have to be the artist… the parent… the lover… the friend… we are all these things all the time butt each aspect of us has to be nurtured… so we seek balance… we seek to give each aspect their due… and it is not an even due by any means… butt just enough us sufficient some times to keep the engine purring…

Heat of the kind I need is impossible to generate of late… the deep seated heat that warms ones to the core of their being is lacking in me… I can’t seem to get warm know matter what I do… must be the old age of my bones or the mileage on them… what ever it is I would love to feel a bit warmer than I do… another January passes into memory and good by is all I can say… most winters I can deal with… this one so far has been a pain in my arse… and I suspect that pain is going to get worse before it gets any better…

Perfection is not what I seek… the small imperfections are some times the more interesting aspect of a moment then the perfect… so when it comes to situations I sit and watch for how the imperfections align so as to seem perfect flawless steps when really they are the best efforts of imperfect individuals… butt that is the beauty of it… we do the best we can and then we hope that in doing so we accomplish that witch we need to…

Ceilings are false for a reason… like the walls we build to protect ourselves they grant us a false sense of security… they hold us captive for a time or they set barriers to our growth for a time… butt most walls or ceilings for that matter we outgrow in time… in fact the reason we put them there is more of a measure of our growth… we may not be motivated to push ourselves forward butt eventually we do outgrow the tasks at hand and must out of necessity step forward to take on another challenge… we are not as limited in our abilities as we would like others to believe… we can conjure up the warmth when the time is right… the fatigue is of the mind… not the heart or soul…

Once ever so often in a while the mists fade away and we are left with a picture of clarity from witch we can sit and enjoy the warmth… cold never plays out in the crystal clear as well as heat does… cold is a dull grey… so when the mists depart for a time the sun shines in and penetrates the bones… that type of warmth that pushes aside the bone weary cold and replaces it with a renewed sense of urgency…

I am at a loss or know not really a loss a juncture of curiosity or perhaps perplexed… the danger is in what is next to pick up on… ashes to ashes apples to apples dust to dust… is there a major in the place… a quest is required to find the dainty sort of cloth we need… perhaps the rabbit will know… the rabbit as we know is wise and fast…

When the morning comes… when the dawn breaks over the eastern sky… look toward the light and wonder… for in the passing of the might of dreams and whispers for we know how the stories all end happily ever after as if ever after is the sought after outcome… for most the climax is the happy… the ever after is a dream for we know that ever after is just a term in time… that will at some point be correct… the swirling wind climbs the bridge to the road… time to get off… shake it off… it drips to the side and falls to the edge… a slow drip… a necessary plunge over the edge to capture the last and find the more some where between…

I believe we are better than we imagined… I believe we are diluted into believing less by society in general… there is an attitude of other depreciation that a great many subscribe to… this attitude focuses on looks and style as a means of relating worth… since there is a select few that can manage that criteria they are the only ones worth of that status… slowly the world becomes a very small boat of how success is managed and how good we actually are… we have the concept beat into us about not only having the intelligence to deal with a situation butt also the correct package of style and appearance… we are better than that and that is the reason we fail to fit in… it is not that we accept that concept or idea we simply refuse to be a part of it… the truth does not disillusion me… the truth makes me crave to bring more of my dreams into the realm of reality… we dream and we put into motion the possibility that what we dream will make its way into reality… we are after all surrounded by the dreams of others… why not our own… there is no reason why our dreams are not as significant or as critical as anyone else’s… I believe we are misfits that is true… because we believe that it is possible to step beyond the rigid ideals of society and range far and wide and have to bend to any single rule of appearance… screw what the book looks like or how it is colored… read what’s inside… thumb through the pages and find a paragraph or two and even if you disagree with me you have the right to do so… accept each as single entities not as a mass… there is nothing wrong with you… nor with me… we are perfect in the eyes of the maker… the imperfect ideal is all of an inferior concept of man…

A thousand words give or take a few… a million over time… patience… perhaps the wondering soul just needs a voice…perhaps the impatience is what rings true in my ears over and over… the voice over in constant mode to trip the light fantastic and yet it will fall silent just as easily as it ignites into a passionate display… the nature of words for me… the avenue of expression selected and everyone who digs deep within falls prey to the exterior elements and falls silent time and again… only to rise out of the storm of silence in a rage of energy… it is like that for me at times and then it seems that at others the simple patient idea of exchange is complete enough to thin out the blockage and allow the stream of consciousness to explore further… the pallet is a simply rainbow of ideas… each color a spectrum of possibility and hue… well that is what makes its unique…

A single thread is left… a single idea or concept set atop the page… she listens to the sound of the weaving fingers… the slow tap of the needles or keys as the time floats on by and by… inside the mind rests in activities… inside the rearranging is being taken care of… while outside there is the rush of fingers and the calm expression of relaxed motion… reality at times is very different from what is actually going on inside… just a single thread at a time entered and rearranged and then another followed by another etc… until after a time a quilt of many ideas surfaces from under the hands and fingers of the skilled artisan… words are a common element we share… we all are capable of writing down what is on our minds… I am not an author by any stretch of the imagination… that does not stop me from being a writer or artisan of my own ideas or thoughts… I have in all ways been a very independent dependant sort of person… one step away from the horde butt still I have a place within the horde… just depends on the time of the day I guess… or the particular quest I am on… the sky is the limit some what… butt whose sky is limiting me… the universe or one of my own creation…

We change when we bend our knees to the world in a way that stops us from being who we are and alters us to being inside the structure of who they wish us to be… the truth as you so eloquent put is has nothing to do with the reality… the reality is how you perceive yourself in the light of the world’s reaction… your place is where you find yourself… you will excuse me for not agreeing with you… for believing otherwise… the frame is different for male and female… the frame is a harsher standard about one more so than the other… it does not make it any more ridiculous by any measure… in fact all that is to me is a larger reason to knot bend to its dictates… judge me by my size do you… butt in life at least in this life much is judged of a person by the cover they place about them… by the façade they wrap and hide behind… and you may permit me to wax you are more then you know… butt perhaps that is how you wish to be held in my eyes… I hope that is true… for I can be know more that what I am… and I can say know more that what I feel inside my heart and soul… and to those two elements of me you remain a strong and fierce light… so excuse me if I disagree with you… my experience has been some what different in regards to you…

Know worries… in the world of time and places it was her time and it was her place to move on… sudden as it was it was for the best as she was unable to move the last two days and in a great deal of pain… at that stage it is some what easier to do what when know is right and put aside our feelings… I like that about pets they let you know when the time is right… that low whisper in your mind as you look into their eyes… and you know it is time…

Silence does remind me of what I have recently said… silence is the indication that the last word is perhaps the one once uttered we cannot retrieve onto ourselves… I remember a time before I was married when the silence between me and another was quick and complete… knot by a word mind you butt by an inaction… there are many times in my past when I can remember a word rendering the silence… this was an inaction or an action not grasped for what it was… she was ready and I was not… how foolish a man was I… how would that have changed my life perhaps totally… silence is the reaction to a hurt… a cut… a slice… a piercing deep plunge of a knife or sword into us… people are silent when they are hurt by the words we exchange… when they are in awe… rendered speechless in a stat of joy the silence is not so pervasive… it does not last as long nor is it so heavy… that silence is light… it is the light air between souls sharing a moment… as opposed to the heavy dank air between words as one sinks slowly upon the other’s breast and hurls them down into their own private darkness… the silence of speechless joy is so memorable in my mind for it lasts a long time… butt the need to share its state opens the mind quickly… in days not weeks… in hours not months… in minutes not years… as much as we wish to share our sorrows… our joys we share much easier and much more readily…

The surprises I like have to do with unexpected arrivals… delayed departures… arrival of moments we never believed possible… the sudden turn around a corner to come face to face with a memory… the collision of souls that ring a similar bell that sends us along a different path that we never believed for us butt we embrace… those are the types of surprises I enjoy…

The choices are endless as we debate the many aspects of the new design… even slight changes open up the endless possibilities time and time again… in the end the deciding factors will be costs and it will be difficult simply because it seems that one does and one does not… butt the truth is we both want the best for what we can afford to indulge ourselves with… and only we know what that is… and only we can come to that conclusion once we have examined the facts…

The more I have the more difficult it becomes to select some thing to listen to… the music collection has grown recently… or should I say the digital library has grown recently and I have access to a lot more of my old favorites now in a digital form… that however has not made the choices of what to listen to easier at all… in fact it has made the selection even harder to make… when we have a few say a hundred to consider the choices of genre and selection is some what limited… when you have eight or nine times that your choices widen exponentially… and it becomes harder to choose what will delight the sense at this particular moment… picking the one or two albums to delight the senses becomes a quest… I enjoy such expeditions however… the more the merrier I say… the more the merrier…

We took our trip to the farther shore… we leaped once and when we landed the landing was at a distance from one and the other… finding another in the darkness of time is not an easy escapade… it is sort of bump and collide and see if the sparks fly… and so it was that once upon a time worlds collided as they are prone to do… and form that moment on my world has never been the same… butt the completeness is different than the collision part… there are aspects of me that are peaces of other collisions that have occurred before and after… not all the shards we carry are of the one and only moment we share for eternity… in my mind there are many such shards we assemble to be who we are… to discard any one would be a tragedy… butt I see people do it time and time again… they leave those peaces aside when ever the great collision in their life time occurs… or more they refuse to allow the possibility that another collision will happen in their life time when the first or second did not produce the perfect path… we fall when we are ready I believe… we fall in ways that from a distance we may choose to rest… we fall prey to our needs and suddenly we are there in the moment… at some point we realize… there will not always be a tomorrow… so today becomes an important moment to leap…

We can imagine a lot of things… the question to my mind is can we bring what is imagined into our world… can we imagine a state and then create that state in our reality… of course since we have created the state in our mind we have a means of measuring that in our reality… and often what we create in mind is far less than the reality we experience… this is mostly true in romantic or sexual encounters… the reality is different than what is imagined… sometimes better… some times not… butt it is never as we imagined it would be… in my experience it was better in a great many ways…

I did not live a sheltered life contrary to the general opinion of me… yes I was a shy introvert that does not mean that I never walked the path of relationships before I met the one I have been in for all these years… the point I was making before is that sometimes actions create silence… inactions create silence… as well as words… and silence to me a great deal of the time is a jab or a slash or a stab of a sword… it hurts… it is as simple as that… so when I am faced with a lengthy silence I test it and when the silence is persistent I know the meaning of it… a hurt or slight or just a need to step away… butt it is a retraction or divergence of paths… and it is best to allow it… to let it be… those who play that game to see who chases after them who want to know if you care enough to chase them… well that is a game I wish not to be involved in… my answer to that was and will always be… it was not that I didn’t care enough to come after you… it was that I cared enough to allow you to choose your own way… if you felt that walking away was the right choice and you could not see that talking to me was… what could I have said or done that would have altered that perspective of me in that moment in time… my life was not sheltered in relationships… there were a few very interesting pairings for me along the way… I smile sometimes thinking about them… most I never see one I see on occasion… funny how the wind blows… and we can fall into a sentimental rain…

My experiences are limited in a lot of respects and I think it is more acceptable for the male to be some what of an adventurer… that is just the way of things… another one of those shitty social ideals that say you have to be committed to the one that comes along that seems to match your stride… though in my experience the ones I was with and the one I am with now experienced a bit of life before and as far as I know all have after… where do I fall on their meters I have know idea… never occurred to me to wonder about such things… youth is so reckless by any standard… we dive in when we should wade… we run when we should walk cautiously… we survive when we should live… we just don’t know any better… and in relationships when we should be exploring we find ourselves committing… not that it is a bad thing at all… when I collided it has lasted for a long time it will last a life time… perhaps it has lasted life times… butt I have collided with others in this life and we remain friends… relationships are not all destined to end in wild nights between the sheets… though as male of eighteen years or so that was my desire and endless wish… hormones be damned… again I am protected by the social ideal that it is acceptable for the male to sow the wild oats a bit before settling down… in my experience and logic the same is true of the female… how does one know… well you do know when you know… it is some what intuitive… there was a difference with one… a solid difference… though I almost missed it completely… it is only in retrospect that I over stand it… how does one explain the collision and the instant awareness of the solid foundation beneath your feet… some times that is a flash in the moment… at others it is only the beginning of what is to be a long and winding road… we never know what the next day will dawn on us… butt it is a gender thing that removes the thought of more possibilities from one side of the aisle… my life had places I could have landed butt didn’t… there were some interesting stops along the way… the bi-sexual… that was interesting… didn’t know it then butt it makes sense to me now… the lesbian… that was really interesting… butt hard to believe as it was a very physical relationship… what goes on before we are entranced by some one is so strange when we think back on it… those two are so far removed from who I was they make me smile butt then I was out on the fringe for some time and not myself… away from home in dangerous waters so to speak… a time of great experimentation… know one ever measures me as less for my wandering… though whenever we do meet those from that era will ask me if I ever hear from those particular two… sorry to say know… they had their issues as I did butt perhaps like me they are not now what they were then and they simply wish not to be found by anyone from that time and place… and why am I writing all this… because my life is not perfect in this realm of experiences… my journey is not perfect… it is part of what made me so strict with myself… to adapt the focus I had for so many years or actually to step back into that strict ideal of the world… stay on the straight and narrow because you have this tendency to slip off the edge into strange and wild fantasies of the mind… perhaps the truth is stranger than the fiction… how much is really true and how much is whimsical recollection… I am unsure looking back from thirty plus years… it is hard to know the fact from the fiction so far removed… the saintly soul I was not in any case… in any age or era of my life I was never saintly… I wandered in my mind a great deal… that is my greatest sin… though I don’t regret any of that at all… what I do regret at times is that I hurt others in my desire to share openly… I learned that my passion and my desire is not for all… it is in fact for a very select few… and even with them there has to be great care taken… when we share we do so openly… we expose ourselves… walk onto the stage of life naked into the spotlight and just stand there shouting look at me… and when ever we do that there is always a sense of harsh reality… so how much is a known… how much is a secret between us two… how much is passed between the sheets and the astral walks… how much is a reality that I can hold onto in a moment with time… such questions I have such ideas I wander with in my mind… I have not had butt a few wonderfully eccentric souls who have entered the realm of my world in an intimate way… and I cherish each one of them… and I took a thousand words to say just that…

My world is some what on a sentimental spin over this weekend… death does that… does not matter who dies or in this case a pet… death or loss after a time of having them close at hand trips the mind to remember the length and breadth of the relationship you shared… from day one to the last day… the circle of their life a line… there is a firm beginning and a firm ending… and here we are moving on from that… so perhaps are lives are a chart of lives running one to another and when one ends we take time to consider our place in the world as it relates to them… here I am and what aspect of that life do I take on and remember… what did I learn about life from sharing this life… it may seem strange to consider with a pet butt then again… I have often wished to be the person she believed I was… strange how grief gets to me… strange that at the moment I did what needed to be done surrounded by people with tears flowing… and now two days later… I am being sentimental… strange emotion… never works well with me… for I believe that souls we shared in life we will share again… it makes the letting go easier for it is not about letting go forever… just a parting of the ways for a time… it is until then… for goodbyes are final to me… until then… and when the time arrives I hope that I will know what choice to make for myself… again the emotions are strange… does anyone know until you walk the path yourself know… butt once you do… you can consider the consequences of your words… the dance of the right words plays harsh in endings… beginning are more easily set aside for they are usually filled with a great happiness and joy… departures are usually times for tears and memories… laughter as well for some find the need to remember the better times as opposed to the end…

I was hoping to find some passage of emotion… some pathway through the lingering thoughts that flow inside me… I was hoping to find a bit of peace in my mind… I know it will come when I let go of my choices and decision… some things linger within me for longer than I would imagine… this journey inside my mind is effortless and the words seem to find me… the well however is very full and I wonder when will it run dry… when will the need subside and leave me exhausted upon the side of the road… when the necessary words are written down… I am on one of those journeys where the words come at the end of a long run on sentence… and only after I have purged myself of all the words that clutter my imagination can I begin to write the ones that I need… there is that need to talk about things… sentimental and other wise so that in the words and letters the necessary ones will slip from my unconscious for I feel alone in this… alone in the boat of my memories… they say there is hope for the soul when they say what is on their mind and open their soul to the world… it that be true then there is hope that I will find myself asleep this night under a canopy of lights… and that the sleep will be a deep and refreshing one… for the tide of sleep has not been well received in my last days… sleep does not become me as it once did… perhaps tonight I will sleep perchance to dream of the four winds…

Days have changed… I am writing in the past… I am sitting in the hours already lived for another writing backwards… the wonder of time… the fabric of the universe turning over and around me… time comes and time goes and on to the line we jump and take a ride… and she listens to the music of my soul playing in my notes… and she slips into my dreams in soft strumming fingers tips across the keys of my life… a musical analogy of touch… a song sung to the awakening mind… the day has changed over into night… and it will be a long strange journey into the dawn for me… tomorrow calls… tomorrow looms large in the forest of my mind… I feel stripped of my bark and I wonder where all the leaves have fallen… I feel the cold… the wind and the rain falling down upon me… I sense the cold to the core of my being… a freezing of my emotions in place until I chip away at the ice…

Events happen in time for a specific reason… some happen because it is time for it to happen… we become aware of our strengths and our weaknesses by the trials and paths we walk… our successes and our failures define who we are not by the nature of them… butt more importantly by what we do after them… talk a little when you lose… even less when you win… the challenge in life is to walk the lines as peacefully as possible… a mixture of the sweet with the salty…

Some music swings me… some increases the mood… some lingers in between then and now… all of it is a flash of some thing… a lingering memory of the stairs that I have climbed… so when you ask… there are answers… when you listen there are words to write even in the silence of time there will be words to share… words to describe the beginning the middle and the end… some times another’s words define me better than the words of my own imagination… this is one of those times and yet I stir the well of my imagination in search of words that can… strange how one can seek the words inside and find them in another’s lyrics easy enough butt still refuse to use them as a means to release the emotional wave… the truth is there is one who can release the wave… butt that is another story a good one for some other time perhaps… now is not the time to go there for to go there is a journey that has no good ending… nothing good would come of going there now… so I would prefer to just work out the kinks in my our armor and leave the tears to another time and another place when the time is right… until then…

There is an old adage that suffering should be done in silence… in fact I have often been told that one speaks a little in loss and even less in triumph… there is a certain adage that persists in the trait of modesty compared to the vanity of shining the light upon oneself… the cold twist my bones… this year it is especially true… as we approach the mantle of another month I wonder about the deep frosts and how perfect they seem to rest the world… rain slows things down… the snow and frost have the power to stop the world completely… beware the cold rain and the snow… so we suffer in our solitude and silence and close our eyes and remember the heat of summer that awaits us just around the bend… in another month’s time we will be speaking of the coming spring time… the hand of time will be tempting us with warm days and winks of what is in store come March and April…

Needs knead to be embraced… wrapped in warmth and hugged to the breast… needs drive us at times to leap… in doing so we step further then perhaps we imagined… so when the urge drifts across the tide of your mind you should embrace it… and every so often toss caution to the winds of time and leap… you never know how wonderful that freedom feels until you do…

Some attachments hold us for reasons that logic does not pretend to explain in any way shape or form… some connections just take us places that others strings don’t… all threads have potential to move us in one direction or another… butt certain ones we are kindred to… they happen and we slide into them time and time again… I learned early on in life to hold emotions within… to be stoic in my expressions… to not be overly one side of the equation or another… that there is a time for everything… the immediate is not always the best choice for expression… my love of facts and figures swims in such waters as these… and yet to be truly human the expressions of our deep emotions is a must… there are certain connections that drip emotions for us… they trip a certain delight and ease within our souls that allow us to let go of the tight controls and open the flow valves… who those souls are we are unaware until we are touched by their simple presence… they are soul mates of a sort… soul friends… deeply connected through some force of nature… we collide some where in our time and we bond a fused connection… we fight it from time to time as being inappropriate… what faces we put upon it… what sense of purpose or direction… a cold rain falls at times and we desire the warmth to rekindle the fire within our creative and emotional hue… and who better to slide up against that some one who can feed those fires…

So much exists… sew many possibilities… sow many seeds of opportunity… the sum of all potential sits in the seed of a single second in time… a dream is born in this moment that will change the world… what it is… we will find out down the road of time… in a day… a week or some months or years when it comes into its mature state… and time in and out that is happening all around us… so take the seed of this moment and bite into it and savor the first taste upon your tongue… the sweet taste of creativity… the salty taste of a new idea… the sour taste of opportunity so we take notice…

Much of what is nutty in the world engages the creative… nuts carry an ideal and while it may seem as you rightly saw others only see the portrait that is painted before them… they take the cover of the book and let it explain the pages between without ever going any further… finding some one who can grasp the meaning beyond the meaning is a rare treat… a rare treat indeed and in spirit… and yet modesty does not allow me to stand any taller or shine any light upon me… I shy away from such accolades and have all my life… my strength has in all ways been the coupling of ideas or the connecting of the art within to the joy without… to find ways to connect the potential energy of artistic expression to the walls of the artists dwelling… it does not mean for example that one should become noticed at all… by anyone… just that the art within finds a means to be expressed by the artist themselves… and stored in some way shape and form for others to find if they are so inclined to do so… if one knows me in some depth they can find many connections of tigers and shapes of the figments of my imagination as they are littered across the internet from time to time… am I trying to be noticed… know… trying to find the proper place for me… the proper balance of perspectives of the man… the boy… the father… husband… and a thousand other expressions of who I am… and sometimes just wanting to know myself… my art… the art of my expressions is me at the most basic core of my existence… this is the raw crude unedited me… the seeds of all the nuts planted so long ago…

The artistic equation or graph… take a piece of sketching paper 24 by 18 and separate it into four quadrants… for the single artist… each day you write one word into a section moving counter clockwise or clockwise depending on how you wish to do so… and when the space is full you structure a story by taking one word from each section working in reverse of how you put them in… if you are working in a writing class… or with a group it is more dynamic butt the idea is the same… one word from each person into the next section… I dislike the concept of purpose that some teachers use saying in this goes nouns… here verbs… etc… to me it is like let the spirit rain upon you and what ever comes to mind put it inside the next space… the wonder is in then taking it and using the words in creative ways… I have also seen drawing classes us this concept by actually creating an art piece by allowing each student a single stroke in each section… or in a more wild sense to place an image in each section and then to create a piece of art by taking images from each one… it is a study in awareness and in the sharing nature of art… it is a scientific ideal mated with an artistic one… it is a very useful tool… butt I will say that it takes a very dedicated group to make it work… butt well worth the effort…

We say what we say and we dream what we dream and we place our thoughts before others and we hope that the spirit of what we say comes across and it does time and after time… there is not a thought that does not convey ones idea… some are more challenging to accept… for me at least they are for I am not attempting to be anything other than myself… it may seem odd that butt my life for a great many years… thirty or so was very defined… I believed I knew what to do and how to do it and that structure left so much out of the equation… this is how a man lives his life… and yet it was not at all who I was… so when the dam broke and the waters flooded the idyllic scene of what I thought my life was I was cast adrift in the sea of my own making and I realized what was missing related to who I was… and what I had set aside and abandoned… it has taken some years to find my way and I am still seeking ways and avenues of opportunity… what I found works best is simple correspondence… this dance of words back and forth across electronic waves provides such a wealth of expression that it takes my breath away… I have struggled to find those kindred souls who over stand the dynamic… those who grasp the art being created… unfortunately they come and they go… or they become estranged to the idea… they want to know the artist behind the art and that becomes more challenging for me… for the art explains the man behind the words… in all things there are pictures and references to my life and my passions… read what is there I would say and suddenly there is a need for the crystal clear picture that defines completely with no hint of tease behind it… the hint of something I say is what fires the imagination… I will be slightly naughty and say is it the hint of the naked form that sparks the sensuality in us or the full complete picture in full detail… I say it is the hint that I have to complete with my imagination… the slight tease that sends my mind into wondering… that spark or flame can feed the fires of imagination for a life time… so perhaps I am unique in that over standing of me and the art that twists inside me… they are after all just words from the grids of my memory… nothing is more important to me as an artist then to hear that some thing I have conjured up made you think… that single notion is what sparks my creativity… that is all that I am attempting to do…

I walk a thin path around society… I am normal on the outside… in fact I often say that most people would never take notice of me at all… I am not in the degrees of my mind wishing to conform or not to conform… that is not the quest at all… what is for me at all times is to be comfortable… how I step out is how I feel comfortable… many a time I have put on some thing and just went this does not feel right while others are in awe of how it makes me look or appear I am of the opinion of I could care less about how it makes me look it is more important to me of how it makes me feel inside and out… what slides up to me and appears as a slightly off color touch… a sense of color in the streaks of time… passion in the eyes… being noticed is not my agenda… being is… so perhaps my passion is being unseen to the many wandering eyes seeking a guide through the waters of daily life… butt being captivated by the few who share the warmth of the tidal pools warmed by the creative fires…

Others influence us to think… that joy is what leads us to think for ourselves and to come to conclusions and choices based on some logic… the many books we read are avenues of thoughts we can choose to adopt… the danger in books is reading just one and believing it is the only one of its kind… this is my argument with religious people who hold up their book and say this is the only way… why is it that religious people always insist that we follow their lead… and then we find their lead is filled with some ugly circumstances… instead of taking the tack of lead a good life… people want to be led I think… they want to be told what to do… and that fact really stinks… I wish to think for myself… and if my thoughts offend you well let’s talk about that… what offends you so much about individual right to think… it is what I was taught and I choose to keep that aspect of what I learned… I was influenced by Aristotle… Keats… Shakespeare… Byron… Einstein… and so many others… I try my best to read as much as I can and make my own choices… I can see the wonder in a liberal ideal… and the wonder of a conservative concept… and the need to find a compromise that works… so their words in some respects do become mine after having filtered them through… so before I cover my car with bumper stickers for all the things I believe in perhaps I should just be me and lead my life in a good solid way… perhaps that may inspire some one to just shut up and lead…

We do inherit the dreams of our ancestors… in fact we are living it… they wished for us a better life… a life where we are free to make choices… to not slave day after day butt to have a good balance in our lives… their lives were the best they could make them and ours are the best we can make of the times we have and our dreams for our children’s children children will be realized in their time and so on down the line… and when it comes times they will wonder if they inherited the world we dreamed of… in this we balance the difficulties of our present world… I have hope… and that is perhaps the greatest gift we can give them… hope that we will find ways to balance the differences and come to some sense of balance… delicate as it may be at times…

Quarters slip one over the other… a segment of time clusters into the pocket as tokens of where we have been… a journey of the rails inside our minds… we dish the sweet balance of time from one pocket to the other and pay for the exchange with the coins we have earned living each day… I trade the cards in my mind for the coins in another’s… and so it goes round and round in endless circles… sow some seeds and see where they land and what they grow up into… so in every exchange a little slips to fall to the ground in places we never imagined and yet from those seeds gathers a wondrous storm of rebirth… who would imagine a free society a thousand years ago so it is possible that in time the concept of free open idealism can flourish in all corners of the world… I can see how freedom scares those who desire to control… I can see how it scares me at times for with freedom comes great responsibility…

I follow the avenue to the end lingering in the shadows as she moves along side me a thousand miles away taking time to engage in answers to questions unspoken butt asked in silence… along the lighted street under a canopy of stars they wandered inside their minds for in truth one sat and the other slept… so when the tide rose and swept the day to the shelf of memory each felt the aches of movement and the joy and warmth of being close inside… and she smiled goodbye and wandered away and he let his hand slip away and opened his eyes to greet dawn as she rose… time and time again he greeted the day with a short glimpse of the passionate muse that fueled his creative fire…

Virtual connections are much more fluid and less possessive then the ones formed in the physical real world… even when we meet the temptress of our imagination in reality it is a less solid form than one we face each and every day… in some ways the virtual allows a freedom we don’t have in reality… that freedom to turn it off or on at the press of a button… while in reality that is not as easy once the engine gets going how does one stop the train… and yes it is best to not anal eyes the situation too much… it will only get you all tight and worried about saying or doing some thing… best to just smile and embrace the need as it happens…

The balance is enough… what is the measure of too much and the lesser knot enough… just enough is the sated pleasure we seek… yet when we have enough we long for more… human nature to want more of what pleases us… and also human nature to tire of what we have for some thing more… the greener pasture over the next horizon perhaps… what makes one wish to turn off the engine… strange twists in ideas… the initial point being set aside… having fun is just not enough any more… there has to be a longer purpose to fun… fun has to lead somewhere… and we go from wanting to share the moment… to sharing moments… to expecting moments to be shared… to demanding time… it is human nature to want more and when we get more to want more still… so lines are drawn… where have I gotten myself into those situations… in all relationships it takes effort to have them get past certain difficulties… when we are discussing more how much is enough… how much time is enough time that will satisfy another… and when do we become settled in our desire for the time of another… for sharing in the days and nights… for some there is no hint of a shared desire… it is simply a desire that must be satisfied and when it is not because of any variety of reality the situation is untenable… the only course then becomes a need to step away and once removed it is very difficult to reinsert oneself… we learn to live without… we move on… we find another direction for our desires… why would we ever wish to stop… because we feel like we have been taken advantage of used… in some strange way… we feel abandoned… all of witch is impossible to be in a virtual situation… butt that does not alter the concept… as for me I find that I do go into lulls of silence with people from time to time… it is not that I fail to speak with them for I do daily still flip through my memories and alight on as many as I can… butt I find for me that some times the words are impossible to write down… I think them… I speak them in my mind… butt I am either away from my loyal machine or I am in a place where does not allow me the comfort of expression at the critical moment of the flash of inspiration… it is the spontaneous combustion I desire… anything less is well less… so I leave the letters alone… and wait… some times a day… some times longer… the purpose is to thread the web as much with all that sparks… and if I wander aimlessly like now from one subject to another… that is the wonder of following the path or the thread to where ever it leads… some day soon perhaps tomorrow… some day further on possibly the eve of some discovery… does it matter not as much as the thread that pulls and connects and opens the door each and every time some one knocks…

There are surprises and then there are surprises… some bring a smile to our face and a wink to the eye… others bring the ring of a cash register and a tally sheet to my mind… when ever work has to get taken care of in a home the fewer the surprises the better… for each is one that we have failed to consider and that usually means the cost just went up… an extra day in planning or a consideration or contingency is always better then to find yourself in the midst of one idea without a plan if something goes astray… best to consider all possible avenues before one begins…

The time taken to engage in a creative process is time well spent… even if nothing comes of it at all… the idea that time is put aside to do what you wish is very important… the more time we allot for ourselves as the family gets out on their own the better we will be… we go from having time to having none to spare to having time once more and we have to prepare ourselves for the transitions well and with vigor… once transitioned to the new flow of things then we can take care of all the things that entertain our whimsy… and believe you me there is a lot of whimsy to consider… after so many years doing what is required a little whimsy is really satisfying to the soul…

The light changed… the sea parted company… the turn spun over and around me… an island I became in the middle of a stream… jostled to awareness I moved with the flow of things… a moment I lapsed into the dream of being some where else… the movement awakened me to the reality of the course ahead… just time enough to reach the other side before the waters close once more the avenue… picking ones way across the open sea takes certain navigation skills we learn as we go… the slip stream warms the path and keeps it free and open to the oars of our little shuttle… we walk on the deck hand in hand… across the universe… across the open sky… chasing stars… chasing dreams… only to awaken stuck in another island in a stream…

When you consider the volume of letters assembled on a page who am I to say what is enough or what tips the scales to the unbalanced… I think that at times I carry the load a bit more than I should… at others I am carried by the flood of another… and then there are really wondrous times when it does not matter if words are spoken or written at all… reaching that precipice is magical in a relationship… any relationship… for it means a freedom for each to put aside the worry when they assemble a thought… so put your mind at ease… it does not matter to me is the thought is a single word or a thousand… I have often put to use the idea of why reduce what you need to say to one word when there are a thousand perfectly good ones to convey the same thought… there is wonder in being linguistically verbose… or a cunning linguist so to speak… feel free to go with the flow of what needs there are and never fear for if the tide does become tidal and the need arises within to turn the faucet off for a time I will send a ringing note of letters that will request just that… butt don’t hold your breathe for that has never happen yet from me… of course the opposite has been true for some time… many a soul has said know more to me… for some illogical reason they believe they have to match me word for word and idea for idea so that the count of words is evenly exchanged… the balance to them is not is the shared wonder of a moment writing one to the other… butt in the measure of what is shared… one word or a thousand… what tips the scale… I am unsure… let me see so far this month 29, 808… hum perhaps I have taken the verboseness a bit too far or knot… perhaps at a million it is too many… or perhaps at a billion… or a trillion… who knows what the limits is that tips the scales in one direction or another… what I am sure of is that when the scale tips the silence is what permeates the valley where once we roam… it is simply that easy to tell… having sailed many a relationship to its natural end point… silence is the clue that gives it all away…

As I review my past and my present looking toward tomorrow I see the left as being necessary to what is right and centered within me… there are positives of course of what was and has changed… butt there are also negatives that are now obvious to my mind… when we are engaged in a situation we sometimes fail to sense all that is going on or all that is necessary with the other part of the relationship… my failings are all simple when seen from a step further back… what I saw as intrinsic to the needs of the other were not what they considered necessary at all… my thought of giving was not theirs… so we missed in mid stream the necessary ideal… time and space allows for that… intimacy of mind allows for it also… and so the paths diverge necessarily and one falls silent as they are incapable of taking any part of what was with them… while the other finds a way to smile… as they wander the strip of reality that is their way… so today is another day… and so tomorrow will be…

You never know with an animal what the best course to take is… well you do know the best course… the one that lessens the trial and eases them into the next… I have been confronted with this choice on two occasions in my life… the other two decided to make the choice for me before I could manage to do so… last night being the last of the recent two that I had to deal with… it is for me a rather odd sense of choice when knowledge is put before you of what has befallen your pet… you look and you remember and you know and you hear what is being said and it registers and yet it is some what surreal in a way… a complex question is put before you… no input from those around you the choice is yours to make they will do what you ask of them… and so with all that swirling around inside my head I found the strength within to do what I felt was the right thing to do… for no amount of help was going to change the course she was on… all I could do was speed it along and perhaps hopefully relieve her of some of the effects of a prolonged period of suffering would do… when is the time right for such a choice… it is never an easy question to choose to fight or to let go… first thoughts are to fight… then the realization of that choice come into play… the outcome will not change… there is no way of changing what has befallen them… time to let go… to ease the passing… to do what is right… and so we do… and now today… there is that silence that only one who has owned pets knows… it is so quiet in the home… so very eerily quiet… so closely linked they were and so in passing were they…

All the words are mine or shall we say… all the words are constructed by me responding to correspondence… that does not include by the way any writing I have done in the performance of my job… only what I have amassed in responding to others or in waxing whimsical… it does sound like a lot of words and perhaps it is in some ways… butt to me it is probably what I ramble out in a single day… I am Irish remember… and we Irish never fear to ramble on about what ever comes to mind… the more adventurous those are who communicate with me the more verbose I am in response… as you are well aware I can be a raging torrent or a slow drip… it just deepens on the day and the topic of conversation…

On the thought of silence I was referring more to the passing of time over time when you are well aware of the absence of thought related to you as a subject… there is a space of time when I am aware that another’s absence is a closing… we all have been called away at a moments notice to deal with reality… butt when we get back we dip our hands in to the flow and stir the needs within us to respond to the words waiting our response… there is an amount of time when we know the response is not coming and it is time to move on along the path… you can stir the awareness and you will get a response and the leaving will be extended for a few days or weeks butt once the words stop flowing… the need is know longer there… knowing that is important… for me it is the need that holds the kindred together… when one learns what they needed to learn and they find know reason to remain… it is time to let go… even though you may see a need for them to do so… the reality is that is not your choice to make it is theirs and only they can do so… having lived it recently I am acutely aware of the passing of the baton from one to another… of the focus being switched from a virtual ideal to a reality based one… witch was the entire purpose that I was engaged in… what I failed to grasp was that my ideal was not theirs… my ideal included a continuation theirs was incapable of having that… they simply never considered the possibility because of the comparisons they would make… know relationship can endure that… especially one that is youthful… so I give the silence its dutiful reverence and I have moved on… I am now instilling the lessons learned into my behavior… once bitten twice shy… oh the teeth of the muse when she takes a deep cut into you…

I have the knack of rendering silence… it is this foolish belief at times that I can write anything that comes to mind without thinking… it was a notion that come to my mind once… write what you are thinking… what is in your heart and share it with some one you care about… that one tenant of theory has caused me so much trouble over the years since I began using it… what I should have said is write all that is on your mind and edit it before sharing it with anyone… and perhaps that is what I should begin to do as I move through my sixth decade of life… I do have the knack for saying the wrong things for trusting in the openness of whom I am writing to… that trust has been foolish at times… foolish to believe that anyone butt me would be fully aware of… naïve I am… and that naïve notion is foolish for a person of my years…

The time has come and gone… the truth is that nothing gets done until it is done and nothing ventured nothing gained… the time will be the time when the task at hand is done and we can move along to the next time… so perhaps I should just ease myself in and follow the path of least resistance… so I will sit in the silence of time and remember the paths walked and weary from the journey rest assured in my choice… once we choose we should feel relieved… that knowledge acknowledges that we did make the better of the choices open to us… it is time every now and again to string the bow and go out alone in the woods and see what mischief we can get ourselves into… it is a boys notion of adventure… to live off the land… to be one with the natural world… of course every thing we do has balance… to learn such tasks we have to be willing to put ourselves in a state of inconvenience… to put ourselves at risk…

Paths separate… paths diverge in time to go their own way for a time or forever… that is the nature of choice and the nature of human learning… we learn and we move on… the thing about relationships is that one of the lessons is to learn how to disengage without leaving unanswered questions… without leaving the other soul questioning the reasons for your departure… it is the old thought about a hint or a detailed view… in some situations a detailed view is quite a necessary desire… this is my need and I feel this is the best course for me to take to fill that need… I may disagree butt I will not stand in the way… I have done that from time to time… stood in the way and it just puts off the inevitable… the mind of the one ahs already been secured… they will demure for a time butt eventually they have to move along… if you love them you will set them free that is the true test of love is it not… to put your desires and passion aside so that the one you care about can lift their own wings and fly… even if it means letting go of them and they fly away never to return or even to look back or explain… the thought of me being the reason… or of me failing to provide or be the person they required does come to mind… butt I also realized some time back that it would not matter what I did to hold another in my embrace… that kind of relation ship is more bondage and it is not the path I wished to embrace at all… I wish never to be with some one who does not wish to be with me in some way… so when they put me in the rear view mirror I allow them the freedom to experiment with the world without me… and I have to say they all liked the world better without me so I suspect that I was not such a good friend as I imagined I was… butt that is life in a nut shell… we are never as good as we imagined or as bad… we are what we are… some will grasp the unique state of our nature and others will miss it…

A way appears in the midst of all other choices it seems to be the most logical of all the illogical ones that extend out like a fan before my eyes and at the end of the bend in the road some where in a moment in time there is a dip to the road… a step larger than the previous one purposefully placed to trip the unsuspecting eyes of the wanderer… a leap over such a step lands one on uncharted territory for the truly adventurous only to reign themselves in before plunging head long down the falling water to the rocks below… a leaper leaps for the moment and then ponders as they fall the logic of their choice… what does one think as they fall so readily to the earth below… a link strips the weight of the unimagined to the spark of inspiration as the rain slips across my face awakening me with each slap… so the torrents speak to me of solitude in the gardens of my discontent that is littered with weeds beneath the piles of snow… wind and cold… a mound to find ones way inside of… a need to burrow forth to find warmth within the icy cold…

I am in a mood to let my mind wander to the obscene levels they some times go wandering off to and from… the typical wonders that are stretched to the limits… like the recent snow falls around here… they are at this point obscene in my mind… they have pushed the limits of endurance and capacity… where do we put all this frozen wonder… at some point the weight will deflect and deflate the strength of us all… many deep breaths as we put shovels in hand and turn on snow machines to clear the way… sore shoulders be damned… it makes me long for the warmth of Florida… of course most things lately make me long for the warmth of other places… it must truly be the wearing of age on me… the cold has sunk to my very bones… chilled…

A juxtaposition of moments… out of time in the frame of a sequence butt at the same moment your time is my time offset by the clock we use to measure it… the time your mind opens to share with mine is times shared one with the other and therefore it is a single moment offset as it is… it is the same moment in the expanse of time… how we define it future or present tense… of for that matter past or future depending on how one’s eyes capture the sequence of events as they play out across the imagination… time is magical as it gets… fleeting substantial… weighty… light and airy to hold onto and all the same time changes us in single instances and carves niches in us as we wade into time to swim with her effortlessly on her wings… time is splintered fragments of puzzles all coming together in the juxtaposition… and then suddenly the many fibers make an image we can grasp as a yesterday… time the sweet tease of memories…

There are many weird massages on the internet… the more we correspond to the more elements of weird and strange we come into contact with… I have had my share of them… butt men deal with weirdness differently than women do… and we have a different meter of what is weird and what is just strange… of course few women prey of men… the opposite is not true… many a man will turn a phrase to mean some thing it is not while few woman fall in that direction… my theory is that men are easy… stupid at times and ready at all times to stray off course… most times it is just harmless butt you never really hear of the crazy woman as much as the crazy guy… so of course the best course is to be careful and logical at all times… unless you are like me… a nutter to begin with…

Splats are spectacular creations of the mind… a splat… a puddle of liquid that explodes into a design… I sometimes imagine a large balloon filled with liquid words all jumbled inside dropping in slow motion toward a hard surface so that when it contacts the balloon explodes and sends the words all flying into the air jumbling and tumbling around until they come to rest so they can be read in their jumbled context… imagine taking all the words to a story and making them separate jumbling them up and letting the words explode out and when they come to rest reading them from left to right or right to left or top to bottom or bottom to top or in some such pattern as you decide and seeing what kind of story emerges… that is a splat to me… a story inside exploding out and now it is time to read the explosion one element at a time… the choice of color… words… font… size… definition… form… what does a splat say about the context…

Flattery will get you some place where that is I am unsure because well perhaps it is my religious past that says one should be modest about such things they do with effortless joy… it is just what I do is all… so I will take you on your word and accept the words as they were granted… butt I will insist the more accomplished artist is you… for while I leap and bound in an effortless tangle of threads… they lack a substance that one can put between covers… that art befuddles me… confounds me… escapes me entirely…

The dress weep… the color faded… the jeans tossed to the side… the hair done just so for the right hare is the only hare to have at the right time for to have the wrong hare is scandalous and there would be talk… a lot of talk I am told if one steps out in shinny shoes when dull ones are required… nice people behave like so and not so nice people behave in other ways and witch one do you wish to be seen as… it always seems I side with the slightly not so nice crowd as they seem to really be enjoying themselves while trying to do everything just so is really hard and life is not so very hard as to take every second of my time to keep me inside and never letting me out to scream… to dream… perplexus confundus…

There are many forms of courage and the one we deal with is the courage to place a reflection of self out front and center for others to respond to… the art of writing is a shared fragment of who we are… what ever we write we are saying this is me… so when a critical eye suggests we change this or that… it speaks of change that perhaps will get us some thing… what price that some thing… for me it was the never knowing if the though changed me from that moment on… did it rest inside me as I write so when I select words and sequences was the voice inside m mine or of the others leaning… that to me is unacceptable… the words come on my terms with my lapses of judgment… success to me is not measured in the light that shines butt on the number of lights shined upon… not on who gathers to the light that shines within me… butt on how many lights have been touched by the light within me… in that respect I am probably at a loss also… butt it is what I would love to be doing…

At some point when the art leaves the nest it will either fly or knot… what you miss is that it already has flown into the ears and hearts of those you love… perhaps it will nest there for a generation and you can sit with grand children and read them the chronicles of your imagination… your art flies openly and lovingly… nurture that… cultivate that and perhaps some artist in your next generation will take your words and pout them to music… to song… to dance… to a lyrical ballet… who knows what wonders can come of such shared enchantments…

Our we knot all trapped in the lift… or the lifeboat… are we knot all of us enclosed in a room with others to pace our of differences and prejudices and degrees of humor one upon the other… our we knot all of us unique and challenged by the sensation of being stuck between one floor and the next for hours at a time… sweet dreams are made of explorations of this type of journey… to the tower… to the walls… to the chamber of our horrors… and then to sleep for in such a place only dreams can come true… and dreams do come around to us as long as we engage ourselves in them…

I shall dance across the floor in single file for lines are worthy strings to swirl upon… I shall sing to the heavens door and hope that angels have ear plugs for the tenor of my voice does singe the strings of hearts and souls that when tethered to the world strum soft notes upon a glass bow… she sings in harmony with lust and dreams of ever after and warm sift pillows to cuddle with… and then the tide winks a silent greeting and storms away… winter greets the dawn all red and weary eyed… a single flutter of wings they say… and this is what happens on the opposite end sweet dreams to all of silver lights… a hole inside the darkest night to escape the world and wander the trails… to sing the song and read the tales that wag and sage and bemoan and when the day comes shinning through to open one’s eyes and catch a view… and from that principle of though we disregard and come awake to stretch and charge… and soon the restful slumber has endured and captured our minds and hearts as lures… and when the bait is taken to we rest aside a single hue…

She slipped beneath the covers… the sight intoxicating… the mind alive with anticipation… a hiss of breathing feathered the air… a dream slips in beside me… a sweet dream of course and in all probability one that I am all the better for… there is a measure of worth that speaks of the level of who we are and who we would be other wise… so in that light of touch and be touched I find the forest is leaves waiting to turn… and suddenly the best of me is associated with the path I have taken not alone butt with a flash of light that changed my life and while I owe a great bit of me to slivers and shards of other experiences the ones that exist in this one dream are the core of me…

Slips and slides the ride or the motion… the motion of the ride… a single effort less challenged… if the opposites were true would the top belong to you or to the ceiling… some times the opposites are the truth as told in a reverse sort of way… a from behind this is what the picture looks like… and while we all believe ourselves to be the perfect specimen… we are in fact truly imperfect until we digress across the forest or sea and awaken the mind of another stretched wide… such is the window of dawn as it rises across the sky… an opening… a greeting… a desire to ride… to put oneself into the saddle once more and wrap your legs about the engine and feel the vibrations roar to life as you ride off into the sunset… she slips he slides and between the two the engine purrs perfectly…

Worry does not enter into my mind as much as difference in my familiar… there was some thing I truly liked in the routine I used to have that escapes me now with this new ritual that I must complete… today is unique in that the desk is finally cleared of nonsense activities related to the new routines and structures… and I am not the best at these things as one would imagine… I like change and the idea of learning as we go… at the same time I am some what comfortable in a routine that allows me time to unwind and uncoil my strings at a place and time… having to do so at home is not as easy as it is at work…simply because at work I have my own private space… peace of mind is highly prized now that I know that is more important than anything else…

Warnings are necessary evils in my mind… when I go a rambling off in some wild direction or two it is some what necessary for me to put up the sign off the reservation beware as you are about to leave the paved and open highway for the world of cutting one’s own path in the wilderness of another’s mind… breaking away from the routine of words and responses to the world of a single wild rambling sentence can be some what of a challenge for another without proper warning… so the necessary evil is to place a warning shot across one’s bow and let them know the next step is more of a leap…

I am more comedian in mind that literary genius by any stretch of the imagination… though I do appreciate the comparison as being open and wild and easy with the letters and at times being lyrical in my prose to a degree… one stroke hit home precisely in that I am playing most of the time… even when serious I am not that serious as it may sound… my mind does not allow serious to enter into the conversation…

You put faces to ideas… form to concepts… my ramblings are more formless ideas that lack structure… the ability you have to work those things into real characters is a gift… and I agree the world has enough suffering stories do not need to have that to get the point across… all one needs is to find an interesting adventure to get the idea across… children’s stories are real life adventures that teach valuable lessons that we keep forever… while adults like a bit more shall we say edgy ideals in their readings that is not as necessary either… what is… is well formed characters that are real… or unreal for that matter… some times the best characters are unreal except for inside the author’s mind… as you said your stores are your dreams clothed in words… while mine are more naked letters running about…

The light of inspiration is to me that single flame that is a guide in the deepest darkest recesses of our being… the single flame that can illuminate our world from horizon to horizon… that spark or flicker is essential to the peace of our mind… when we have a firm grasp upon it we are at peace with ourselves and when it eludes us it forces us to seek it out… we are not comfortable away from the light that allows us to be ourselves… the spark is an internal one yet at times we lose it externally by being untrue to self and the nature of who we are… the words don’t simply dry up they are extended in unessential debates over nonsense… some words are fleeting for their crisp sense of the time they are used… some words have to wait their turn in time… usually after the author has been dead for some time… think in terms of great philosophers and timeless idealists… in their own times they were how popular… a small fraction of the popularity they now experience… yet were they any less true to who they were at their own time… my guess is that from time to time they forgot as we all do and had to go in search of self in some way… the light of a muse or inspiration or figment is that centering breath of fresh air when we require it…

The threads string themselves… find their own place and weight in my mind… a large ball it becomes over time… a snow ball rolling down hill it gathers more to it with each revolution… with each revolt of time… with each turn over and over it becomes the essential movement from one part to another… a single string carries the connections of similar fabric… they are the pulled imaginings of what connects this moment to the next… plausible as they are… impractical they can be… and in some ways they test the metal for threads weave with the wind… a long strange unraveling of string comes to mind… and in so doing we cross stitch ourselves from left to right and right to left and backwards over again… the threads are webs really small fibers that stick one to the other…

Taking flight has the same effect as a rebirth in flame… while one is consumed and reborn from the ash the other shakes off the past and lifts up and out away from the gravity of earthly responsibilities to soar above and beyond… the peace of flight is so restful and one never seems to want to land… once at a certain height one can simple ride the thermals from one place to the next in your imagination…

One day the fire will flow in the art of your imagination… one day the fire will etch itself across the page and leave its mark… we all find the fire in our time that expresses us… we do suppress it all the same… or protect it from prying eyes… we are conscious of the critic in all of us and I shy away from that so I hide the fire a bit now and gain from those who will step readily up to contest the need of such a flame inside me… better to use that fore to learn a craft they may say… best to put that energy to better use doping some thing constructive… build they would say… a very manly art building is… so when the day comes when we can let it all hang out so to speak perhaps the fire will resemble a volcano…

Pane is a dessert… the reward after the steps we take… pain is the trophy for having lived… the result of taking risks and leaping across rivers and streams… of seeing the sky not as a limit butt as the potential we all can reach for… in that pain we experience the true nature of ourselves and we come to terms with what that is… without the pain to reflect through we would miss the wonder of the reflection that smiles back at us…

The later it gets to one the earlier it appears to another… one’s sunset is another’s sunrise… the time differential shades us all with a slightly off idea of what time actually is in reference one to the other… at your turn of the day I am still hours from the magical switch and still in effect captured in the previous evening… the slight adjustments of time gives me pause to reflect on the sleeping mind… so as dreams carry off so many of the hearts and minds I know I am awake to wander in their unconscious mind… and perhaps we will share a brief moment in the recesses of time as one awakens and the other falls blissfully to sleep…

The sounds within our minds never seem to be exactly the same as the voices we render outside… we can cull that over time with practice… so that when we give voice to our characters they spring to life in our reality as well as inside our minds… when the rooster crows we know what it sounds like so in our dreams we can recreate the crow exactly… the opposite is not always truthful though… the voice of our creation comes alive in reality only when we match the sound in our head with the sound of the voice we have created… and the direction… there is a little experiment one can do to achieve that it does take a couple of things… a person with some vocal agility to move their voice around and the desire to position the voice just so within your head so it projects out instead of in… it does become a very interesting exercise… as we become aware of the many voices we have in our heads and the directions and angles they take…

Honor yes appeals to the code of seconds and beyond… any slight when first it appears can be dismissed as an accident of the moment… while a second or third is not so easily waved off… it becomes a matter of honor to duel with the second as it unfurls over and above the first… the honor code demands a charge or a raising of arms to deal with certain slights… though I prefer the raising of pens to duel until the arguments have faded and one falls to the will of the mind over the broad shoulders of the strongest physical being… the pen over time being the mightier of the sword… though I will grant you that there are moments when a good sword gets the point across in the most lucid of ways…

While we can wander multiple times down a road or a path to learn… while we can feast time upon time on the words of an author reading and rereading the worlds they put before us or experience the wonder of any work of art even to the point of wearing it out… the greed comes in when we hoard it way from others… shared multiples are wonders to beheld… they should be encouraged over and over… for there is wonder in certain greed… the greed to be the best… to satisfy a worthy cause… the greed to do a noble task… yes… that type of greed is worthy…

In all madness there is a shred of kindness… in all the ramblings of the unbalanced mind is a level that slides to one side or another… most madmen or persons are not cruel they are mad in the slippage of their minds and for the most part are quite harmless to themselves or to anyone really… am I mad perhaps mad enough to ramble on… butt not mad enough to stop… there is that gage that sane people have… knowing when to turn the faucet off… to tune down the music so as not to disturb others… the artist in me knows know such limit… in fact it pushes the envelope a bit to the extreme…

The edge of truth teeters on the sharp define of reality and imagination… of what really happened and our impression of what unfolded… the truth between what is the actions and what we witnessed and can express in our minds a certain way… the edge of time is now as we step forward… as we are propelled into the universe of time… we are a fabric weaved of days and nights knowing more… and the better we get at slipping and standing up the faster we learn how to avoid the slips and go higher still on our flights of fantasy or just pure fancy… and what is more fanciful then to get inside the wings of choice and glide off the highest cliff to feel the wind beneath ones wings lift you to the thin layers of the earth… ride a wave… glide on the thermals… slide down a hill covered with snow… sit in the solitude of self and experience them all at once and when you open your eyes feel the cool breath of life charge in and awaken the sleeping flame to roaring fire…

The truth is we always wish to stretch… let’s see the truth and times that we are enjoying… we like to stretch out the times that bring smiles to our lips and a sense of purpose to our mind… restful peaceful bliss… the opposite is also true… except for each the opposite is also truly going on at the same time… so stretch out what makes your mind go wow… and reduce the ones that make your mind go shit…

The double meaning extends far beyond the limits of my fertile mind… the idea of stretch complicates the imagination… her in the saddle compromises the ideal that perhaps there is a stretch to the imagination that is both interesting and challenging and yet it intrigues me to wink or nudge and wonder… is that what was meant or have I slip off the deep end once more…

There are some struggles we rarely if ever completely overcome… some are necessary cleansings… a time to rearrange the order of things and put them into a priority that keeps the necessary separation of the past from the present and the future… so we struggle or at least I do with the cleaning out of the old… so that is what I feel upon recently… taking the old boxes filled with words and putting them in the proper order and giving them reference… with the advent of virtual storage real storage is not as necessary as it once was… so the space is more easily taken by air then boxes… use the tools you have… it is easier to hide the reality in a virtual frame then in a real one…

So the fire place is cleaned up and the ashes swept across the path of the tallest tree… she whispers and rattles in the wind swept air… a cold wind blows side to side and around again… a tranquil motion I have found dances across the lipid pools of my eyes lulled into the music by the muse herself… and then left alone to my own devices… a thrashing awareness of solitude… fear in the face of light of the smoldering fire sparked awake in the deepest pit of my own despair… arriving at the crossroad I leapt in and found the rush intoxicating to my soul and since have stood with pen in hand whittling away the hours… the time may come when the voice echoes across the canyon once more… butt even echoes fall silent eventually… the hollow sounds of vast openness attracts me… I am the tumbling tumbleweed after all… once the power is connected to the source is anything else required of me… butt of course… ashes to ashes… dust to dust… is he still alive… yes my dear he is… just not where he can be seen so easily… one has to have the right set of keys… and most importantly… they have to be willing and open to the use of those keys…

The song flashes the root across the ties bind me and yet the words will not open onto the open road…so many letters find the opposite places and reside in the juxtaposition of not where they belong butt where they race to be along side the other… a slight variation of the whole by a similar margin… close enough is not perfection and we do seek the perfect harmony of letters to words and then a step further up the ladder to conversational dialogues… she turns the leaf over and crumbles it to dust… ashes to ashes… dust to dust… the circle is complete and unbroken…

Has know one grasped the thread or come to the core yet… silly really to wonder about such nun sense… as if any one person can arrive at the core and grasp the full measure of that precise moment… know one can do that and remain sane for there is way too much going on for our minds to capture it all… and so we filter out or more precisely we allow in certain avenues or ideas and close our minds to the observation of others… so here we are attempting to over stand the mind of one or another and yet we know that to be impossible… we can come to certain conclusions of course and we will do so time and time again… butt they are pieces of the puzzle and while we can recreate the steps we can never get inside the mind of the ones taking them… that series of synapses is beyond another’s comprehension… the arrival at a movement from the impulses raised to get one there is explainable in science… the how… the why of the motivation while sciences believes they can factor is actually beyond any science…

The journey today will be a cold and biting one… weather for me is a mundane topic at best butt when at dawn I awaken to a deep sense of foreboding I know the weather has taken us out of the range of normal and directed us into something much more sinister… when we venture outside the ranges of normal we every so often find ourselves in the know man’s land of never before… not that this is one of those days butt it is far outside the range of normal… and in so doing has thrust the weather from being mundane to being news worthy… winter is vengeful this year… we are coated in white with a frosty topping that will add to the depths of temperature over and over so that with each breath we feel the cold down to ones inner core… it has been many a year since we have faced such a winter… more fuel for the global warming idealists… or for the other side… each will take their stands I suspect on the extreme nature of the weather… for me I will hope for an early spring time and a nice warm fire to read by… as for now in a few minutes time I will have to adventure out into the cold and find my way to take care of some necessary chores before returning home to nestle under blankets to keep warm and cozy… this is an add another layer to the bed night… followed by an ad another layer to the clothes day… in this type of weather one has no idea of the sense of touch of skin to skin… because in this weather when skin touches some thing cold it will stick to it… best not to attempt to prove or disprove that for many a young man has found out to his detriment that it is true…

In time I can chase the night away and dream while I wander fully awake and do so with the ease of breathing… in time I wish to wander full and wide the length and the breadth of time itself that I am allowed and perhaps I will be allowed to traverse time a bit more now that my days of watching over the younger ones are waning… what of sleep is there that chases the warmth from me and chills me to ride the waves… a warmth spreads and I sit in the flames nestled in the fire that burns away the flesh from my bones and then renders me to ash… I am reborn in rest and sleep a new person older and hopefully wiser for the journey I have undertaken in slumber…

I seek the quest of farther away or perhaps the limited streams [partake of me a soul searching… I sat to write and wrote a long winding letter and found after reading it that I should start again… take a different stroke or tack… a fresh peace or parchment perhaps will do the trip nicely… there is some thing about a blank page that calls to be etched upon…

So perhaps some of what is there inside my mind is a rambling notion or ball of strings that I have collected over time and now I am on the other side of the hill… the over the hill we spoke of when we were children… and it is time to let it out after taking so much time to collect and ball it up it should take as much time to let it out a peace at a time… with what we have learned we surely have learned how to peace out just enough of this or that when it is required… there are only so many opportunities to dole out the riches that we hold close… a line of poetry that makes one cry or laugh… a story that moves us… the first kiss… the first laugh… the first smile… a lot of firsts are tethered to me and to you as to everyone… in the wandering of my mind I wonder where they all find solace… firsts are not always the most pleasant… they are however firsts… perhaps we should talk about the last one being the better of the comparisons… our last kiss as being a more lasting memory or at least a better one to rekindle fire or set a soul ablaze… at least mine have gotten better the first though memorable was lacking… I have aged well in that regard at least… or I am not afraid as I once was to admit that the first was well the first and it suffered from being the first…

Where does one go from talking about firsts… to talk about more firsts or do we do seconds… as first grade was a challenge is the second one more so or less… for me school was rigid and unyielding to my soul… I never wish to experience the web of academics as I once did… perhaps one day I will teach as to define the better of the two… who knows what direction my life will take me upon… though I cannot imagine being in a classroom as a student… I would be a thorn in the ass of progress… I am not one to sit in fantasy land while others wax whimsy… that I prefer to do on my own… for I am that sort of a nut…

The mind wishes to explore firsts and possibly seconds… thirds are out of bounds because thirds sounds greedy does it not… seconds at a meal is customary butt thirds is gluttony… someone who settles in for a third helping turns heads in the wrong way… so perhaps we should concentrate on firsts and seconds… or home… safe and secure in the light of what I know…

You will have to forgive my rambling nature as it has taken hold of me in this hour and will not let go… some what like a sled ride off a mountain down a path across a road onto another and suddenly a short run has exercised itself into a marathon of words chasing one then another… a strike of light or stroke that one must capture before resting… that elusive spark or flame of passion or desire that must be held before it escapes ones fingers if only for an instant… capture me… hold me… entice me to dream… and when we do we fall into the dream electric… body mind and soul captivated in the realm of creativity… draw me it screams… write of me it whispers… share me… and from the raging torrents come poems… snippets of stories and sketches that illuminate the mind…

The idea or concept of the muse exhausts me of late… tired I am of the notion that it takes an external spark or vision to bring forth the art within me or anyone else… perhaps that is just a poetic license… perhaps that is what eludes me about poetry… its license or my lack of a poets license to wander about and join words in lines that leave the mind captivated… she whispers to me in prose I am afraid to speak or utter in loud shouts across the great divide butt with you so easily they flow… the sounds caress my ears and wander across my fingers as if my the magic of time… a carefree solitude joins me at the hips…

I wonder what comes to mind when reading the ramblings of my mindlessness… madness perhaps… the concept of a lunatic scribbling in earnest upon the parchment with ink and quill struggling to find the letters to put together to say some thing of substance before launching into a song… thank Godde for spell check… thank Godde for strawberries and whipped cream… sugar and tea… cakes and pies and apple cider… brandy… wine and an occasional nip of something warmer to the soul… thank Godde for wandering eyes and the sense of touch… what would life be without that… to knot feel the presence of some one is beyond imagining to me…

You can tell I am lost in my path and seeking to find it… lost I am in the most wonderful of ways… a challenge it is at times to harness the letters and find meaning or a focus to put my mind to… I envy you that ability to focus and create stories… my mind is so stretched out a single story flows into another and so forth and so on until there is nothing but the thing threads of one that deposits you into another… stories need structure and I lack structure or more importantly I despise it… I dislike the standards and the rituals of art that demand one to put the words inside this frame… even this I dislike… and yet I use it because as of yet I have not found a way to just sit and talk across the table to you and keep a record of what I have said written down… when I do… Godde help you then… imagine that an entire conversation transcribed as it is being created in mind and slipped into another’s mind…

In most cases comparisons are inadequate representations or more they are misrepresentations… one cannot compare one moment with another without considering that each moment is unto itself unique and therefore impossible to compare… if one wishes to compare one lover to another they will make the same essential mistake… a kiss is a kiss you either embrace it or not… another may entice your desire more butt that is not a comparison it is a reaction to them in that moment… have not we all embraced a moment of indulgence only to realize later it was a moment of indulgence… when we put another in the light of comparison we open a myriad of difficulties… what we can do easily is be honest and say that one tripped our desire to a higher degree… that does not mean that the other lacked anything other than the spark at that moment… in another moment the opposite could be true… most responses are situation and hinged on mood and timing and state of mind… so comparisons are not for me… I will let others compare and contrast and perhaps critique the wonders of relationships and intimacy all they wish to… for me I will simply enjoy the passion and the wonder of being inside them…

A thought has by nature for me to jump out or off the page… the illusion is temporary to the reality that transpires… each trace or track of my illogic finds a home some where in an aspect of my time… the forest is a tree for example… all the aspects of a forest are in the one single tree therefore the forest is represented by the tree a minimalistic approach so to speak or say… so the answer is no… a simple word uttered in calm butt one that resonates so forcefully that it employs a much larger position… butt without explanation no means no… line drawn… door closed… of course since we are all versed in alternatives no has alternative meanings… for example it means yes butt you have to ask again… until I say yes… no to some is just the beginning of the arguments not the ending… though to me it is neither one nor another it is a place to begin… easier it is to respond in the affirmation after an initial denial then it is to deny after have affirmed…

Actions… reactions… sparks… fires… flares… a stroke… a step… a simple quirk or movement involuntary or voluntary… a sudden movement that throws one into or onto the path… how one begins to move to me is some what inconsequential… the movement however and how we perpetuate it well that is a different matter all together… it is a good process to learn and put aside the past into its proper perspective so that the present is dealt with in the simple wonder of living… and that we can look forward to the future that rises before our eyes so we can look up and see what is to come from the steps we are now taking… my point was to do just that… take the best of what has come before… take the lessons learned and the experiences and use that to refine the steps we are presently engaged in… this use of past and present will lead to a better tomorrow… or at least one that is different then the past we have navigated so far…

Leaps and bounds… alterations of the course… a smile entices and a knowing presence is alluring… we will often slide up along side a known presence and walk a bit with them even if the path leads us astray of our journey… the comfort of riding along with some one over shadows our destination for a time… eventually we awaken to find ourselves off course… what we do when that day dawns is what amounts to a paradox… some will continue without change… others will radically alter their life and others will find a thread a change that will lead them back… I am in favor of the thread myself… change to me does not have to be radical to achieve the outcomes we desire… usually slight changes produce the best results… I will use one in my own life… as you are aware there has been a radical change thrust upon me by some one who shared an intimacy with me for many years… one day there… the next gone… after many months of angst and conflict our ways have parted some what peacefully… relationships are one of those areas where it is felt one has to cut away to move on… in truth all one needs is the courage to change in subtle ways to lead themselves toward what they desire… when I look at this situation I wonder what have they gained by removing the past… an immediate present… hopefully for them a wonderful future… I have in all ways felt that I never wanted to be with some one friend… or otherwise that did not wish to be with me… or could not find the time for me… so I learned some time ago to let go one thread at a time… until I keep a connection I am comfortable with… perhaps with some it is just a single thread… so as I have wandered in the past myself and rearranged my memories I can see them in a different light and put them in a better place… in a truly practical sense it means a cleaning out of the old things and putting them safely away… that aspect I am acutely aware of… I would have preferred a change that allowed the deep friendship to exist butt some souls cannot balance both… there are incapable of that type of sharing across the gender barrier… male to male… female to female those relationships can last lifetimes butt intertwined ones fail from time to time and moment to moment… they may pick up again at some other crossroad butt once the threads are stretched they will never be the same… I know where I made my missteps and how close I got and I over stand now why that was inappropriate for me to do… would I change the past to undo that… know… some lessons we have to learn… does it make me less aware now… colder… I suspect it does… I suspect I am not the same carefree person I once was… that I am not as giving or as free butt perhaps this time I will manage to keep a friend instead of losing one… and maybe I will learn finally to share in a way that is acceptable… is that not paradoxical…

When the heat rises to a certain stage the intensity flashes bright and beautiful and I feel the consumption of the fire and the sinking into the ashes to await the cooling breath of air that must certainly come after the fire has turned all to ash… new life finds fertile ground in the ash fed by the fire… it is a time for a rebirth… a new possibility or opportunity… it is a time to reflect and pursue the dawn that rises… it is a new sunrise… a time to embrace the heat for the cleansing of one’s soul… to be thankful for the ones who shared the road with you and especially to those who when you open your eyes awakened by the new dawn are still there…

The course of sleep confounds me at times… a split second of difference… one moment awake the next absorbed in the restful recharge of body… mind and soul… sleep for some is over rated for they are active in mind and body and feel that sleep deprives them of steps that could be a successful achievement of what explodes inside their mind… to me sleep is a necessary charge of a certain dosage day upon day… some days the charge is a small one… others a larger dose of rest is required… my own winding path to sleep does not require more that a slowing down of my mind to rest within the folds of warmth… warmth is my tranquility… wrapped in warmth I sleep passionately and deeply… I can wrap myself in a thought and be asleep in moments…

Anything we are familiar with is simple to us… the intricacies of the underground fade once one becomes familiar with the choices and directions… what seems overwhelming at times becomes simplistic once we master the larger view of the entire undertaking… complexities are only when we attempt to eat the entire elephant at one sitting… when we slice off a small pieces over time we consume the entire length and breadth of it… butt it is much easier to swallow…

To me in my mind all artists or creative people are two sided… the artistic self is independent focused and knows what path to take… the other side is well less dynamic… less sure of the reaction and wants to be accepted butt knows that for every one that embraces them there is one that does not and while we may say that criticism runs off our backs in truth it does not… and what I fear most of the critic is not the words or the spotlight upon me… butt that it would change my approach to what I do… how does one deal with the critic and stay on course… will I still be the same motivated me or will the critic’s eye distort me in some way or another…

Horses often talk more intelligently then humans… in fact animals as a species tend to communicate a lot better their intentions then we humans for all our intelligence do… perhaps we should adopt similar approaches…

Letting go is highly over rated in my opinion… the current trend of having to let go of the past or of the present to enter the door to the future puzzles me butt on all fronts I am faced with the same message or indication… to move one must release and go on and even some of it in my own mind… heart and soul and yet it does not seem real to let go of the path we used to get here… to abandon the road that led us to this precipice in favor of what exactly… a loss of where we came from… where we came from defines us and explains the way we are… without a thread to the past we do come unhinged and are cast adrift and I guess for some aspects of our lives we want to be just that… I know for a time I did… having made my share of indifference and mistakes along the way it would have been easier to unhinge myself and wander away… and perhaps at times I did… I do find myself wandering back and forth across the clouds and resting for a spell or two at the crossroads of the past and while I have made the same mistakes over and over would I change that about me… it is true I am a shy person that is a times fearless… is that not a wonderful paradox… well we are paradoxes that is for certain… a little bit country and a lot of rock-n-roll… so I do things now uninspired by a muse butt that has not lessened the wonder of communicating… and while the dream lingers in a less conspicuous way it does linger louder and more forward then perhaps it once did… the longer the void remains a void the easier it is to fill with some thing… butt then I have a male point of view… I will take the port of opportunity in a storm over riding it out on the sea alone… just me… as closed minded as I am over a period of time I get the notion that open is not open and closed is not closed… butt to the observer both are opposite ends of different outcomes… some what like twins of different mothers… or being fathered by multiple seeds… of course I never did over stand the concept of dropping the thread to pick up another thread… that seems to be the latest rend to me… the intense knead to find closure to this frame of reference so that a new frame can be opened up and enjoyed… the trip down memory lane are not so enjoyable I guess… butt they do teach us from hence we came… they show us who we are and what better movie do we need… butt again that is me and I am some what indifferent… I get to the edge only so many times and when I find myself on the abandoned track that i used to share I sat for a spell or two or three reached out and when I found the air to breathe once more finally realized that the motivation had to come from within… a notion planted by some one… perhaps the same message is true here… the motivation is self… a the engine is within the making of one’s own choices… never let the world choose for you… butt then I am highly optimistic… even for a pessimist…