A small ripple rolls out from the center… a wandering set of rings further and further in the stillness… a question… a thought perhaps… a lingering effect of solitude on the mind… alone for a time one can bathe in thoughts… a soft liquid shimmering with a pale reflection of a moment desired or a moment remembered… either or and then one nor the other can work as easily as the door swings open and one crosses the threshold to stand within the waters warmed by the sensations of stirred passions… a trace of the lines of contours… a series of whispers blown across one’s skin rippled into awareness… the edge reached and longed for… perched on the apex at the very crest of the wave we choose our emotional swing… we find the beauty of the rise and the fall… the hunger and the satisfaction of fulfillment…

Hands close upon hands in the deep sweltering pool … the day lingers at the awakening point… a small sliver of light illuminates the darkness as the day begins its rush to stir the hot sweltering air… a damp feeling washes over me as if I will never be dry… the heat as if blast from a furnace whispers… the channel turns over and the calm winds blow a course of sail to the water’s edge and invite in the progress of turns and counter turns and a race is on to reach the farthest mark first or last for time is a fixed race is it not… or is it as we always felt a fleeting task master that is harsh in one and soft in another… I am drenched in solitude and awash in the sea… a wondrous calm sea of heated air and salty water that feeds the soul … walk along the water and imagine the rain dropping across your kin and soaked to the soul sit on the heater forest floor wrapped in a blanket of embers heated to the temperature of body and passion begin to write the story your heart longs to speak… for there is one particular fable or tale that rises to your finger tips and comes alive in your imagination with every stroke of your pen… it screams to be let out not in a high pitch fight butt in its gentle stirring whisper that pulses inside your mind… a wondrous shiver of anticipation builds… I wonder where it will lead…

The tendon seas parted before my eyes and I wandered over to the edge and took a deep breath and plunged into the depths of my own… what way do I lean… is it at all possible to lean one way and another to lean the opposite way and knot connect or bump into… the challenge of course is to stir the waves and the ripples as one splashes playfully to the boiling point or to the point of heated passion for the moment an then leave the flavor upon ones lips for more… to go to the very apex or the edge of the climax and then to step back without pushing over is the desire… this is a complex reality… for the physical hue will desire a finish or a leap of some kind to fill the desire that has built itself up while the emotional hue will desire another stir of the heat… the spiritual hue will reach into tis depths for the creative necessities to rekindle the moment over and over… so what tendon seas are we stroking… what waves are we plunging into and making as we spring to life… do we capture the leaps on film in our minds so we can relive the scent of the water as it approaches… do we record the sound of the waves… do we register the feel of the waters as they close in around us… skin to skin is the best way to know a person… in fact it is the only way to know some one in one sense… it is not the only way to over stand a desire or a need… butt skin to skin… petal to petal… is the one and only swirl of the mind that captures the essence of self revealed…

The unfolding begins… a long day’s journey into and then out of the folds and creases that are layered upon the pretense and the figures are absolute… what makes sense is the falling leaves in the autumn… the cold bare branches fighting the winds of January… there is logic to such strange occurrences as the eclipse and the dawning of the moon… we imagine the forks in the road as choices when either way can get you there… however the process may be and are unique depending on the slant you take… so she lapses in her judgment and comes to terms with the words as they fall from grace… a leap lost in mid stretch and the forest blanket wraps its arms about me to sleep for a chance to dream of melons and steam baths… a strange combination I am sure butt right at this moment they appear to go hand in hand along the same avenue of opportunity… she slips and falls and I catch a glimpse of the rolling stones gather moss as they go for the opposite of reality is by definition imagined…

A singular trip of a solitude nature warps through the core… I can imagine a lance reaching the stars or a figment sparking an imagination… I can realize in the hour of a moment spun a question of perplexing strings attached to the base of the hammer and then the anvil falls mightily down… a swirling lance taken to heart and left to wander forever stuck in such a ways as to remain within the scope of sleeping giants… there is not so much room for the forest when one designs single trees… butt plenty of leaves are necessary to hide the imagination behind… she slips into the folds of my being… asleep is the easiest wedge that comes to mind… whilst one is alone along the edge of the forest the other whispers the wanderings of the mind to collect the bounty cast aside by the stream to await the next launch straight at hand… does anything have to make sense or can we just whisper nothings of a nature sweet from one moment to the next and be over stood on the threshold before entering wait for the smoke to clear… she the cats mother listens contented to sleep with eyes open at the growing swamp of ideas… a deeper pond will be necessary to dive in… depth is not the length butt the breath… an illusion comes to mind… then fades to white in the ever filled voids of mist in a mind’s eye a forest white hides more in perfect filtered camouflage… a song leaps to mind and then runs away to hide remembering only the chorus… a tune to drive the sane in and out of consciousness and then to topple the hand that feeds the burdens crumbs… for a crumb is all one needs to lick clean the plate of a well fed man portioned at the edges with solitude and a harmony of satisfaction… what does it all mean… a simple question I am well aware of and still the birds chirp endlessly of dreams and more dreams and water falls in large droplets of a cascade… I am wet not to the core… dripping with dampness and hungry for it is time to eat some thing or another… butt I am supposed to be home already and I am not at home I am lost in the maze of my mind… or am I… is this a reality journey or an imagined walk in the park holding on to a friend… a stroll perhaps in the minstrels garden… soft light helps to ease the awakening for sudden sharp light hammers the frame of my imagination home and asunder… the campus truck is left blank by the sea… emptied of its abuses and laundered silks… she whispers to the silence to more on… and the waves come over me…

The word is an expression of a reminder that the mind is wandering off in another direction when one speaks of undressing images abound… they leap and frolic hither and yon in the eye and arms of the trapped embrace… a singer sings in the corner sitting with instrument in hand wandering over the symbols of the life chosen and for sure erased in the undressing of their mind… sitting naked in the room pouring the experiences out over notes and sips of drinks as the rumbling of others interferes with the unchained mind… the soul wishes for the excited memory to come to life… I once dreamed of being naked to the soul in a bath of many colored bubbles that only I could see to others I was completely wrapped in a shadow they could not manage to penetrate until they themselves stripped away the pretense and slipped inside the bath and shared the heated pool and made a selection of colors to call their own and wrapped in the mantel of their choice they could at once see and be seen and share truly of themselves… such is the journey of life… a series of words shared over a cup… a spring sent to another’s step and a song to their lips grows passionately until the arrows of time point to the time when it is truly time to step out from the shadows of the stage to the light and play the words as they come to mind… a child plays the strings as only a child can and we sing the lyrics fashioned by the dreaming pool… forever and a day we linger at the edge… hoping for a kiss from the mystical image in our minds… the eyes that sweep across the dream world we have listened to since our earliest recollections… and she bends to my will and kisses me deeply to my soul awakening the fire that stirs in my imagination aiming it all real and alive in my being radiating outward… be careful of the steps one takes when in such a state of affairs for they can become such tempests and storms… for the body is alive with passion that needs a direction and the emotional hue requires arms to hold and shoulders to lean upon… even the deepest spiritual desires are human… hold me and let the fire breathe fire and ice… for when the fire ignites and rages for a time it cools to the ice of passion fused to glass and leaves a trace in symbols as lightning strikes the sands leaving an echo of melted desire to be shaped by the soul… so much more than soul is alive in a moment of undiscovered country… perhaps all we need is an adventure in undressing the other a strand at a time… to push aside the tick of time and just let the exploration take its course… such is the wisdom of my many years to explore the conversation not in measured beats and give versus take but in the way the wandering path makes one feel deep within the soul… and while only one can venture through the passage at a time… once with the chamber of souls is an endless cavern of space open to as many who can find their way even for a moment and leave their mark upon a step or a rock or a wall or bridge that has provided the link…

I speak of the turning away… of the change over the past… I speak of it to cleanse my emotions for while there is over standing of a reason for every thing and a reason besides the coming and the goings of life take their toll in emotions that some times slip away… being imperfect emotionally is what makes life interesting… and while being unstuck in time allows me to go back and relive the past with all its closeness and laughs it does not change the outcome for some just need to solitude of one to focus upon for they so long wondered if they could and now finding they can they wish not to be tempted by another… having been a wanderer for a time I know the click of a fast and hard connection when it slips into place and I know when it is time to fade to black… and find a shadow that covers me in pencil shades of grey… I sit upon a rock many miles away in full view of the sunshine and I escape the proving eyes of the eagle and the prying eyes of the lost treasure hunters who seek human embraces as a means to say they can tempt the fate of those less and more for their physical hues… a label does not the soup delicious… it is what is inside… trust me on this… the package is less of all the percentages of what makes a soul truly a gift… butt then the answer to the question is not what we bring to the table in the forms of present s that are tinged with a physical texture butt the laugher and the stores of the experiences we have managed to share… the gift is not a tangible thing to hang ones head upon or to share with others… the gift is of course hue the person…

Not every day has an event worthy of mentioning so when the tides rise and the torrents get moving we should take notice… at least as an indication that we have become aware of some thing unique and different in the unfolding of the day… while it is true that on any given day it is the best of times and the worst of times that is more a world view then an individual one… very few of us have that range of experiences in a day where we can say that is the best of days and then the worst or in reverse… so to begin it was one or the other not both and I will reserve judgment until the day is over to place it in one or another… hind sight is a better filer then the immediate… we do categorize very early on in our times and there are noticeable exceptions to any set of rules and who knows how or witch way the wind will blow when we are faced with choices…

I have come upon a series of thoughts of late and one that pinches me most particularly is that barriers are there to see how much you desire some thing… the walls and bridges are obstacles of a means to challenge what your degree of desire is to achieve the goal you have set for yourself… so witch direction is home exactly… the one that provides the sanctuary you desire… the one that welcomes you over and in and leaves you with a sense of accomplishment and self… so when a barrier to a goal shows itself it is asking you how committed you are to the goal… what are you willing to do to reach beyond yourself and your comfort zone to achieve this dream… when you look at opportunities that way they some how lose the dreaded fear factor of putting one self out on a limb… scarify for a dream is never frowned upon by anyone and glorious failure is a basic learning tool… reach far and wide and you will fall a number of times butt you will learn how to avoid those falls in the future… the bigger the dream one has the more you are require to put yourself out there to achieve it…

There is for me an understanding in the fall of Autumn that does not exist in the summer’s heat though it is means to heat the mind or the imagination… fall is the culmination of the year… a series of steps taken earlier come to full harvest in the autumn and we get to watch as the days shorten and the efforts or our energies through spring and summer come to light in the plenty that surrounds us… and then slowly butt surely the plenty dwindles in colors to the nakedness just before the touch of winter slips over the land… that is the truth of fall… a wonderful dress taken away a thread at a time to leave the barer exposed to the elements once more…

A measure of indifference spreads out before me… it is partial trip of my mind to the side… one considers indifference indifferently… the cost is easy to associate with the coming of the dawn… for each stage of indifference there is a day lost to the melancholy of being indifferent… such is the tale we lead…

Unique is a way of saying that you are different or that there is a fault in the clay or the model from witch you are formed or molded… unique can be a means of praise as well as a word of caution or possibly a way of saying you stand out… now standing out by itself can be a delicious off set… though all things have edges on both sides… being unique is of that twist of a dull edge and a sharp edge… the wonder and the worry… the dull boring routine and the free spirited reaction of laughter to the far corners of one’s mind… certainly the curtain falls as well as rises… we are risen and we fall… we lunge to and from the bargain to the cost… a leap of faith perhaps… and yet we are all unique at some thing or another or the combination of things… that is what makes each an interesting study in choices… so witch way does one go with a word like unique… not seeing the complexity of the word just considering the way it rolls over my tongue and lips speaks to me… you… neek… a singular though contrived… such is the wonder of the apostolate idea or conceptual design that one can slip in and just listen to the unfolding of the word and be covered with its presuppositions… of course the night is alight with trembling fingers and of course the day shimmers in shadows dark and deep and yet each is a pillar of stone awash in the other… a trip of the mind perhaps not so much a trip as a dive into the abyss of language traded in a friendly give and take…

Passion fuels more passion be it for profession or pleasure… the more passionate you feel about what you are doing where you are and the4 direction you are heading in the more passion will be created in the realm around you… such is the spiraling journey of work and the feel of achievement that comes with a task well done or being the right person at the right time in the right moment to effect a lasting change… powerful combination of three… one of those pyramids of ideas that permeate the mind and dreams… all three sides coming into align just at the proper moment butt these are not random happens they come from a long journey of learning and application of self to knowing… they are about getting to the apex of the moment and grabbing hold of the very top…

The nature of time is that it is fleeting… never enough time to do what we truly love and then when we do have the time we are some how out of sequence with what we truly desire to be doing… so the trick is to grasp hold time and do with it as we must… we can only use the time we have not the time before or the time yet to be… so therefore enjoy the time you are in for other times are not open to us only this moment… so a smile and a laugh can go a very long way to achieving a lasting peace of happiness… the clock can crow or strike or ring a bell for some one… who that some one is slips across my window… and I may catch a glimpse of them as they stride or wander free of my vision… such is the quaking of the earth that settles in and dwells in my solitude of mine… dwell in the farthest reaches and find a recess to wonder about and come away with an interlude singing a soft note of perplexing indifference… such is the ride we are on… such is the forest barren of trees spread out before my eyes can hear… a passion there is for the spilling… so spill far and wide… a bit of a mess is okay… a true mess is welcomed…

If not made to stop and think about it… I would knot know a thing about what is and what is knot… it is the stopping and the looking around that catches my eye and I get to step back in time and go over the subjects at hand and find real value in the meshing of the stories or the notes as they play out in orchestrations of my mind… a collapsing symbolism of trial and error and a balloon filled with helium speaking to me across the wire a small voice impeached to scream… such is the twisted hand of mind or fate that eludes to the fabric of time wavering to the final closing saga… there it is nestled in the trees… just where I left it all those years ago… it was truly in the last place I looked…

An elliptical illusion associated with my deep thirst for more lingered at the farthest stretch of my imagination… a simple twirling diagram of a singular set of variables hosted in a circle of many colors illuminated by the perception of harmony in time with the music or notes being orchestrated at any stroke of time… I hesitated on the threshold of this day dream and allowed the clock to tick away aimlessly for a moment before wiping across the mind a clean slate of choices yet to be unearthed… a mingling of the possible with the not yet apparent… and so it goes that the wind tumbled the tumbleweed across the mystical plane…

Be if off or on… the idea stirs the emotional concept… off means with out as on can mean with out… there is a perceptional view that hinders the language and pervades the mind to strip… heat does that to a mind… we wish to be free of the burden… yet we hide still in the cloth… be it a physical one or an emotional one… we cloak ourselves in the fabric of time and wander off in the distance to seize the moment… all seasons have a purpose and in any life we must traverse them all… we have our favorites and our less than perfect one to consider… each has a beauty to it… each has it extremes… and I suspect for me it is those extremes that I have difficulty with… As time has passed me I am more of a moderate thinker… more of a person who does not seek the far left or right butt sees the wonder of the middle of the road where there is a bit of each there to savor… so be it off… as in a naked moment… or on as in a passionate embrace… either way the magic sparks and the temperature rises…

Took a step in the opposite direction toward home and the woods fell away from the crest of the ocean… one seems to flow into the other inside my mind when all the wondrous steps are of different angles… slight variations yielding many faces to the same coin… I touched the lamp and it lit a surface far and wide… stopped the quake in its tracks to hear the pulse of ignorance sweep past the windows… what do we impart to the soul butt a window to experience the shelters from the storm with others whom we will find ways to know in spite of themselves and in spite of our differences… as much as we do so like the sameness of a routine and the same old ways we have becomes used to… we will explore the new and different when the time arrives for us to leap across the channel… so we go where the romance leads us and we take the storm by its swirling clouds and hurl it as far and wide of the rack as we can… a calm expression of the attitudes of self as we can generate… eat… to love… to pray to the Godde of our choice… when the freedom to be ourselves exists then what separates us is desire to be who we are… what drives the engines that sparks the mind to awaken the dreams… so witch step is at right angles to the previous ones and witch ones are at parallel dimensions so that some slip into a routine while others push us out of that witch we are comfortable with…

The concept of one day… of getting there in time… of having a way or a process or a routine that enables us to reach across the divide cast in place by our very nature… and then to have a change thrust upon us… to have a step take us off our balance and force our hand at finding another way to reach across the divide… and yes we could sit and wonder the why and how come of a particular bridge falling away into the rapids or we could accept it for what it is… a test or an opportunity to find another way or to evaluate the reach we are so used to in the present time… some tasks we have performed over many a year and they become part and parcel of who we are… yet there usefulness has long since gone by the way side… they are simply processes we are familiar with ad used to doing… so when a change is forced upon us we get to ask ourselves what is useful in the here and now and what can be laid to rest as we move on… a state of evaluation has laid its hands on me and I find a lot of what I am not… not so easy to find what I am… what I am not flies to the front of my mind time and time again… a crisp lesson in perception… so one day I will get there or find a means to express in light what is in shadow most of the time… I am a reflection of the inner hue try as I might to be otherwise… so when the hand finds a way across the pond scratching to stay in one place for a time to build a bridge there are questions of why and what changes and who that form in mind… and then it becomes easy to over stand that while we may attach a significance to the reach… a true bridge is one that requires steps from each side… otherwise one just leaps from one side to the other with never a need to form a working pathway from one side to the other… small details linger… let them… slip across the bridge for a walk in the garden and a sit by the water’s edge…

The end of the day looms large as a means to the end… butt just surviving is not always the best course of action… though it does tend to work pretty well on most days… the difficulty with the wandering landscape is that it is in complete flux at this time… nothing is as it was or for that matter will it ever be that way again… the larger the pool the more people who want to dive in and get their fair share… and just what is ones fair share of the pie or the pool or the kitty for that matter… the definition of fair will change depending on to whom we are speaking… and anything that regards money… fair is when I get to take without giving in… that is the idea of fair for so many that it becomes ridiculous after a time to believe that one can take endlessly without ever making a contribution of their own… such is the way of things or the perception that from the central force of some where we can indulge the powers that be and stroke them a certain way and we get rewarded with a flow of cash that comes knot from us ourselves the many butt from others and therefore that is a good thing… a redistribution of wealth as a matter of policy is de-motivational… if I know that I can never obtain a change know matter what steps I take or effort I apply then what exactly is the motivation to do so… a republic is built upon the principle of a freedom of ideas that what one makes of themselves is theirs to keep… be wary of those who wish not to work butt for the public and tell the private what they should do for those who make nothing butt decisions to keep the public alive… for the public is subservient to the private… not the other way around… for every check there is a balance and some where along the line the check will come due and some one will have to pay for fiscal irresponsibility… what we do hope is that it is not me…

The choice or a choice can make all the difference… some are changes and some are just the continuation of a choice previously made and then made again in another way as one progresses towards a desire they have… what these desires are and where they come from at times mystify those of us around them butt we are not within the walls and bridges of their mind… the influences we once had are ending and new influences are beginning… we are transitioning from one place to another… we are on the curve and they have hit the straight away with the goal they desire in sight…

The lady stands against the horizon… being of a certain mind the symbol is very encouraging… and then there is the other island with holds more interesting series of reality… while one is a symbol for opportunity the other is the reality of that migration… and so we have the concept of a dream and the reality associated with that dream…

I slip into the desire of a single moment… I was hopeful butt after not opening the door at all previously I was pretty sure the opportunity would not be taken or embraced when the other turn come around once more… in many ways we remain children in our emotions… we have that need to not be the first to break the stare down or to give in to the differences… in my mind this journey is a different one for me… with all I have granted the choice from my very first to this time allowed the choices to be as they wish them… one does not thrust themselves upon another and demand they stay or go or anything in between… we do as we see fit to do… we make choices and I believe when some one makes a choice they should be allowed the space to live that choice… who am I to insist otherwise… a shadow dweller is best in the shadows… conduits connect and are forgotten… so I will remind myself this morning as I write that the best change is one that is seamless… when one walks another road and they are happy who are we to flip that ideal on its head… so another stage has passed into the realm of history and I sit and ponder the future… there was once a place and a time when that thought would never enter my mind… funny how the world changes us and we find ourselves in the world of choices we never considered…

I take the dance up because it is necessary to live… the choice otherwise is not a very pleasant one… who am I to know or to consider the alternative… I suspect that when the time comes closer perhaps I will embrace some of that attitude… as of right now… there are many more perspectives I wish to wrap myself within… so here is the reality of the forest come to life in the leaves… be knot of the kind that sees only the bark and loses sight of the dog or the tree… so small we can make the world if we desire to bring it to a single point in time… so this is a lesson in perspectives and curves thrown at off times to strike us with an alternative… perhaps ones we never considered… so dream about the hearts grown old with time hand in hand… a little spice for the taking… hand resting quietly in another playfully aware of the solitude in the sad swift rush of emotions that come in dreams…

The naked rush of emotions strips me or outstrips me… a wrap does not stand in the way of the threshold… if you dwell upon the edge eventually the raging storms capture you and thrust you into the vortex to go with the flow or fight against the currents… desire seeps out of the deep inset emotion… passion lights the flames and we slip from the greatest illusion of our minds to the basic reality of this… my words speak and my eyes relate the changing wonder of the spoken song… she listens to the dreams as they wash over the wandering slide and hinge the next on the last choice of the consuming flames… speak not of what was or what is butt of what can be when the dawn ends the night and we awaken in the art wrapped in a fabric of passions kiss for exploring the possibilities that with art exists… take not the door that separates the desire from the passion and leaves the barren art… take the road that combines the many aspects of hue to the art within and brings for the dripping passion…

One day ago the world seemed very small and wrapped in a veil of secrecy… today the veil is once more cast aside and the year wrapped… such is the threshold we cross… and here we are on the other side through the door and open to the dawn… a hot sweaty awful sort of dawn that drapes the world over you as you walk… butt a dawn never the less pleasing… it is nice to go beyond the years without a tug or a pull or a warped idea of the fictions that life can bestow upon us… such is the play of words I have of late in my dreams… perhaps too much Shakespeare or too much reading instead of my own creative writing butt what ever it is the dawn pleases me more today than it has in some time…

The process is at times a labor… be it of love or of necessity… so we count the days and the years and the months from one side of the balance to the other… and suddenly we find our place amongst the many grains of sand… we nestle in and stay in the stillness… we wait across the painted surfaces and slip with the morning dew into the awakening eye of the hurricane as it makes land… and when we laugh and take our turn on the slide we are as a child once more… some turns never go away or diminish in our eyes… so as the sands are moved with the rising tide we are gathered in and push along side… and the content of our smile widens with the prospects…

I have become weary of the idea of me… the illusion fades into the shadows of the precipice… at what price is the color maintained… oh to be young once more and free to roam as far and wide as the oceans in my grasp… there is of course a method to any acting and any progress is limited by the desire we have to pursue the folds of the wings that take us… come home to the sonnets and the trials of thy youth and relive them in songs and solitude… sing to be of flowers and the love of longing eyes that thirst for your beauty… for I am the beast of lust who has but lost the little sanity he dose have… come to me in soft white and lay hands on my mind to calm the passion that heats my breast… such is the lyrical tenor of my soul of late that I can gaze upon a picture and think of the wonders of many years unfolding in my eyes… yet she be only now the prize worthy of my hand… and while I know in my heart to whom I am bound and to whom I am kindred and loved to the depth of my soul… I am also adrift in thought… a fool still…

The tiniest grain of sand filled with happiness is enough to light the way out of the darkest place one find themselves… the light of hope is a sliver of a dream yet to be… cast knot the light within aside and for all the ages you will possess the ability to smile in the face of a cloudy day or a horrible turn of events… attitude is everything it directs the mind to the shadow or the sun… beaming a smile in the face of fate and destiny traps the reach to3ard the darker and forces light upon it… and the more light we force upon the shadows the less shadows there are…

A shade eclipses the avenue… a brush with the shadows cools the mind from the intemperate range of heat waving across the hardened ground… a chill would be much appreciated on such days… perhaps a frozen sort of refreshment to drown ones heated brow… so we walk a bit in the twilight rampages of dawn as it appears over the forest… I am used to a summer frolic in the damp cool leaves as a means to escape the hot times in the city bent to the heat… such is the wandering thoughts they come and they go… ah the blessed tranquility of the summer’s eve as the heat dampens even the most lively of souls to quiet and somber restiveness… freeze me in this place for the choice betwixt the two is easy for me to grasp… a hot hand is for me embraced much more openly then the cold frost of the winter time… such is the possibility for me… come to the edge and stare over the square and I will drop the toe in just enough to chill the toes so they remember the frost butt not enough to cool the temperature for I will embrace the heat waving at me and just take deeper breaths to soothe time… for while a patient man sits with the long summer heat the impatient one lazes it away… and I have lazed away enough time to satisfy myself for a while… much to do about nothing is waiting for a turn as the comedy of my errors is offered as witness to my struggles with me…

The air has it… a flame to touch the inner heart for the soul is butt a whisper… in the dawn there is a delight in the slipping of the sun around the corner and coming to rest upon one’s eye… a blinding ray for sure does dose the mind with an awakening breath… simply to breathe is a delight in the warmth of the day’s embrace… for each night the slivers of hope radiate inwards to the soul of me… a crisp light hardens not my heart butt slips inward to my soul and graces me in prose and melody dipped in the deepest desire for more of the same… come to the dawn with hands open and arms capable of the eternal embrace… sweet dreams do the dew drops make… a swallow sings a song and the deer prances easily over the ground… come wander the boundary with my eyes and wet my appetite for flame…

A certain attitude pervades my open mind… let alone those who wish to be left to their own devices and shelter those who wish the shelter from the storm… be aware however of the cost of the shelter… for each pays a price for coming under the roof where others share the space… a certain amount of cost must be paid if one is to share the comforts of others… society is that great give and take… for those who can do and those who can’t teach those of us who are the next generation… a page is turned over in the flow of time… a tide awakens… the means justifies the flow of the temper to one’s heart… so pay the price and obtain the token that allows one to slip over the boiling waters and into the abyss that is time or infinity measured as a human hand can… the true measure of my mind is exponential… it harbors all the potential of today and all the measured information of yesteryears… a dangerous combination of self stored in the energy such an explosion of words could manage from such a dictionary of thoughts compiled… such is the limerick as to true poetry… a fancy feast for the ears and the lightness of mirth and yet a poem in a true sense it is butt only slightly so…

I do knot do to be noticed butt simply to do what is in my mind heart and soul to convey the thoughts that transpire in the hour or my resting to come to terms with the art of the present and the art of the mind opened like a book to express a wish or to speak of what comes to mind… a tragedy or a comedy… a master of a peace or a tenuous stare off of two rivals separated by a waning line in the sands of time… the water’s edge cuts as deep as any sword or knife welded in an experienced hand… a cold splash or realty awaits the diver once they leave the board and for the splitting of a second in time perhaps there is that notion of flying before the cold water envelopes one and we dissolve into the water … so perhaps the noticing is the ultimate goal of some butt for me the goal is much less a desire to free myself of the words that wander inside my head in an endless parade of want for more room to roam… such is a sweet dream as to the perplexing latitude of my soul… sweet be the distance one covers in a blink traveling on the edge of light…

I slip into the wrap… watched closely by the picture framed in innocent wishes she stood against the wall a little to the left of the middle butt right of the farthest left by some measure of either design or of attitude… some measure of one and a drop of another does at times help the mind to frame a better example of what is possible… if we know the answer we are usually closed to alternative positions and that degree of certainty can be a dangerous path to wander upon… an open mind allows for one to measure the advantage of any proposal put forth with willing hands for all its adventure before putting it either on the side of possibility or on the side of potential butt knot at this time… all things are possible remember it is just a lesson in use for some means are not as much as an adventure as an attitude…

Conditions are what they are and be that as they may be we still will challenge the toss of the dice as it pertains to our offspring… the fact of the matter is we hope and we pray that by some hand more gracious then ours the path they lead will enable them to avoid such footfalls as those that tempt fate more than others… such as we are and while we know the path we follow is one of many trials we hold out that hope even so… perhaps one trial we will avoid or one false step or one misstep at a critical junction in time we will aid them in… such is the ways of being guardians… stewards of others… and even with all of that we pass on to them what is encased in our being… some of it good and powerful and some of it combines to form less than perfect links from one generation to another… such is the linage we have… such is the roots we plant… does not matter much for when the time comes we worry and we fall prey to the demon of why… such is the way of being a parent… fuck fate for certainty…

The threshold awaits the dawn’s crest and I sense a new beginning in the seam of time… for my eyes have seen the touch of the grey sky upon the horizon and been lost to the blinding light of the sun shining in earnest measure across the breast of time awake… she smiles does dawn upon the stewardship of awakening souls… as to the knight does he not linger in the shadows and provide the company of strangers to their beds and to sleep perchance to dream of the winter’s sky or the summer’s passion heated to a boiling point upon the star filled sky… take ne to the warm summer bed of grass to gaze upon the star filled night with full moon aglow for the hunting… steer me awake in the darkest hour of my pleasure and bathe me in the liquid pools of fancy… such is the crossing that is guarded forward… the past is so well defined that we can tell the story without much ado… butt the future is not so well versed… we know not the course another will bargain for in the midst of the trials they implore… truth be told we know not our true selves in the face of the hand of fate across our brow… we hope and we pray we take up the mantel as true and loyal servants butt as yet we are untested in that regard so while we hope we are in that state of being unsure of our steps… false ones lead us as well as true ones… one is just another way of learning the truth of what we be told…