“a prayer for exuberance
to stay and chat for a while
to not depart
as quick as come
I beg of you
to stay the setting sun
so I might awake
and look over
and be overwhelmed
with joyfulness
each breath to take
in from that unending source
to exhale out into the world
to be renewed in every moment
once and forever more”
notes… related to my previous post, written at the same time but in a different vein… and also a bit of a different thought…
before I got into my car this morning, for my lovely (read: awful) commute, I paused and thought how empty I feel at the moment, I shouldn’t of course, there is nothing wrong, I have breath, I am alive, things are better than average and much better than most, I wander to ponder on how to not feel such things, I begin to think of symbols that might renew hope in life, the opposite of despair, to live in joy with a dash of exuberance, so I think of symbols I might wear, like those crosses or stars, I wonder if those charms do the trick, if there is even a trick, surely we can not be full of joy and exuberance all of the time, but why not try, at least most of the time, there are far worse goals in life, I struggle to find the symbol I can adorn that will be a reminder when worn, “hey buddy, you are alive, life is good, smile”, or something more poetic and high minded but the refrain will remain the same in end meaning, sometimes I concentrate and imagine I can feel the world’s energy flowing into me, sort of like a reverse fountain of energy, like drawn out magnetic poles, I imagine it can replenish me or allow me to share in all that is good in the world, of course such meditation of thought only lasts for a bit, like all else so not permanent, and I wonder if I am stealing a bit of nature’s thunder like some sort of psychic vampire or something more sinister as I try to siphon the life force from the world, because intention is not always the answer and has consequences beyond, but then I come to consider the whole mind boggling size of the universe and I suppose my little request at the forever elixir is not to much to impose, as we all do at some point, but how will I ever know? I guess one day if there is a ledger, and my deeds are so written, I will have to measure up, seems daunting but who knows what that reality will require, if anything, until then I endeavor to find a wellspring, a source, a way to embrace and exude… joy and exuberance.
Your thoughts, comments, eyes and looks are all appreciated. We are only here a short time, take a breath and always remember that… or at least try…
the living scar
might you take a stroll
and walk with me a while
tell me your ills
tales of woe
broken wrecks
upon these bones
so let us stroll
down these miles
through winding paths
all the while
your soul’s despair
sitting on a bench
for contemplation
under the stars
for this map has been tread upon
landmarks marked in the charcoal drawn
paces met to trace a start
I’ll lend you an ear
and reveal all you’ve taught
so, let us talk
notes… nah, I don’t feel like it tonight, I think this one is self evident, besides I am on vacation this week… off to the poconos, local but oddly I have never stayed there just driven through…
music? heavy, if you can handle it…. Scar Symmetry – Dreaming 24/7
“tired
jaded by the sun
must recall
the rush of life
in all forms
and regain
the wonder
the miracle
forward”
notes… just something that struck me, life has a routine to it that we get used to, but we shouldn’t forget how amazing it is that we are actually here, at this moment, I try to hold on to that, that amazing fact…
the rain has gone but the song of the storm still plays a heavy dirge upon theses lands (as I observe), there is always these storms this time of year, where the sky is utterly gray and unforgiving, not pockets of lightning, not roving cloud wombs birthing thunder, rains that once quenched the glorious hot pavement of summer, so distant now but from just weeks ago, all the demons and reasons creeping back in, in this season, the summer light kept them hidden, locked in their quarters, but now as the trees are being undressed, their hiding places no longer needed, they are coming out, to stalk the night as it grows longer and longer, chewing, gnawing at the edges of the day morsel by mouthful, a crescendo descends upon the devil’s night, as candy and subtle mayhem ignite imaginations, shadows and flickering candles dancing in jack smiles, the world is retelling the ancient story, one it knows well, sending emissaries and portents to further the tale, and should we pay mind, or pay strict attention, details and devils may rise, all in the slight of hand concealed by an autumn storm as it rages in from the ocean on familiar northeastern tract, we bustle about under all this happening almost unaware, this transforming, but yet it dictates our path, changes trajectories whether we perceive them or not, from one leaf down to the whole lot, soon, soon a blanket will come, not of comfort but stillness cold, as the world prepares and truth be told, not mere whispers but whipping winds, change is coming and has already been.
music... Badlands – Winter’s Call
notes… thanks to all who read my words, all thoughts, comments, recipes, music recommendations and everything else is appreciated, I write this blog for me but if it helps anyone else? I’m cool with that, thanks.
a
maple leaf
landed
upon
my windshield
one,
proof
that the autumn
is still
young,
wildflowers still
in bloom
along
the roadway
as the sun
slowly dips
into
the sinking horizon
notes… to me this is about rhythm… but it came to me as thus, this morning, as I approached my car, my aim is to look up and out to see the world for a few seconds, and take it in, before engaging in the useless rat race in which I’m in
taking this moment to study and enjoy the subtle-ness and suppleness of this cool breeze, letting it caress me, wrap itself around me, swirl undress me to my core, while still clothed, how this wind in my hand allows me to wind down, the gears, to a grinding rusty sparking halt, to full inhale and breathe deep, to realize the world has had me wound going at an accelerated pace, all day, for no real rational reason, I suppose this is manifest stress destiny, allowing your gears to be flung wide west open to please the demon of production, of work that is never done and will still be here long, undone as I am off into the next stage of life, how easily we get wrapped into the tow throng of the assembly line, I suppose it is all in the deft trap of routine, the schedule, the drive, the morning coffee, the vacant hellos to some, the longer hellos to those that know you, or at least know ‘the work you’, and those that are actually friends outside the confines, the walls all determined by time cards and paychecks, a structure construct, the contract codex of the workplace, the pace, a race, to nowhere or upwards rung for more money less time both in years and in life as time forwards by, the gears shift seamlessly and to all speeds, speeds by so rapidly without seams, no fun mondays blur into wtf wednesdays to gateway fridays and weekends relief, the summer is gone and I barely had time to admire her smile, warmth, and sun, I do not miss the bugs however, to sit out on nights like these, this comforter of a breeze, much cooler than has been, not enough to chase me in, or out of my shorts, my toes are growing cold but I still prefer bare-feet for now, the dew on the lawn is certainly cold, not a foil anymore to a blazing sun’s gaze, but for at least a few more precious days I can pretend to feel what the summer was while awaiting the growing cold, such is the nature of things, such is nature, the pace is the same, year in and out, the seasons roll in and out, the rest of the natural world flows as the river natural goes, but do we ?
(part of my porch series… which I try to keep up with, when it happens but the page is not always 100% up to date, but I try my best when I have time, so thanks in any regard..)
a wheel
is not just a circle
there is structure
there is spokes
there is direction
paths and roads
notes… strictly a writer nerd thing here, ever just right something and totally forgot you wrote it into existence ? yeah, this is one of those, just something like a common sense poem, a throwaway of sorts, simple and short, like haiku but not…
music ? ok, I’m on that…
a prayer to know
when is the time
to surrender to life
when is the time
to conquer this life
and to then know and tend
the vast grounds between
a prayer for the small birds
whose confidence I can not seem to garner
for may they find what they need
in this coming barren season
although there is no need
for I see them every spring
notes… for those who might be new to peruse my blog, I use ‘prayer’ in the non religious sense, if you want to use it in the religious sense, cool, I have no problem with that, I think everyone looks to the sky at some point and asks for something sometime, I was an atheist once upon a time but these days I want to believe there is something else but have to accept the possibility there is nothing and I will simply disappear from all existence when I am gone, there is no hope in that end, so I choose hope over logic in that regard, does it quell my mind and fears ? no… but it is better than utter despair, so that is where I am at, prayer is not a harmful thing, try not to make it selfish, I think that is the right ring… (and I do post other ‘prayer’ works, check out my collections & series page).
Music:
the sky is the portrait of a blaze, moments like these there are colors that are difficult to even explain, like flames of deep reds and purples blending and lurking on the horizon, I might imagine how this all looked as I look back with an ancient eye, clouds, white clouds, like angels racing off to the battle, the blaze, the hordes of the underworld that await, the unearthly glow, for what else could this site be? just some random formation of moisture, a construct of nature, weather conspiring to ignite imagination, why lose the spectacle of this all, indulge in the genesis of how stories unfold and are told in the night sky, but not every night, not every night is the show such as this, not every brilliant magenta hue is seen dancing as the curtains of night unveil,the sprites of streaking white angels dive off into the narrowing event horizon, as that lone beacon rises, only three quarters full but bright as any moon recorded, and before a moment’s breath, the clouds are gone, dipped and passed somewhere out of mortal sight, lost to the lands of kings and gods, seemingly swallowed by the ever motioning night, the grand scheme of color carousel has faded out, just the moon, with a spurious eye, casts light from up on down, a reflection of the sun upon the face, ever looking down from that lonely space, the night watcher compels… sleep.
notes… part of my porch series, the sky just had a certain look, for only a few minutes, I pulled my car over, and the muse planted a seed, and it took, and grew into … this…
Shades of My Garden 