so much of what we are told is what we are told, I ponder about that castle up on the hill, that was my dream, once all seemingly within my reach, it was what I was supposed to be, the prince, the crown, the queen, then king, the life laid out before I knew anything of this life,  down the hill, from that great mount, but, upon rainbow’s end, it was not real, just an ideal of what I was supposed to want, to aspire to be, in the image planned, of those who raised this vessel and chose what might fill the same, the directions I might start out upon, which roads I should follow, and how the other choices were trails that led to nothingness from their experience or opinion, but for yet those before had never laid their own eyes beyond those walls either, and rather engender the dreams I might have gathered, pointed me in the direction of their own, not by malice, or ill intentions, of the hope of granting that castle dream to a future generation, dreams, as such, are best kept to those asleep, for it is better to sit under these stars than to pretend I belong among them, but, do not interpret this the wrong way, but for this is not despair or the death of dreams, this is forthright ground, dirt I can clasp in my hand and sprinkle out on the earth in front of me, this is not despair, to understand the common life, a human life, for there is plenty to wonder at there…

this is quite an unremarkable night, as most are, the sunset is not particularly grand, the clouds are just swabs of gray against a not even blue sky, but here I lie, here I am, breathing in such breath, creating words from the fruit of the universe filtered down through my hand, and this pen, I could despair, I could dwell on all the wrong, out there in the world, or know, and truly feel, alive, untouched, at the moment, by the great miseries, that stalk us down, but tonight, this night, that dark finger has not crossed me, not pointed me out, not tapped on my shoulder and gave me that nod, for this is my time, my dream, an unremarkable life perhaps in the scheme, of things, not a castle on a hill, not a cache of riches, not the adoration of faceless masses, just the sheer miracle and joy of this existence, even if this, is just for a minute, let this by my tale so others may know it… (part of my porch project)

music… Opeth “Cusp of Eternity”

thoughts, comments, war strategies, ways to fold your legs in interesting ways… are all appreciated, c’mon now people what are your thoughts on the matter?