Morning

This morning in the freezing cold,



I stood on that vista, high above the traffic,


And rousing souls,


And wondered how many of them were looking at the beauty,


That was right in front of me






And with frozen hands I shutter clicked,


Upon that plateau, high above this icy city.


My soul was roused,


In my thinking that you were indeed witnessing the same beauty,


That was right there in front of us






And my heart was frozen in the thought,


Up there, as the sun placed her rays on my face,


My sinking soul,


Thinking about a decision made without thought,


That takes you further from me






And then, I saw you reflected in her light,


Glowing over the frozen plains, above the traffic,


My rising soul,


Thinking about you, of what you mean to me,


I found hope, in what is before us






And with each image captured on filament,


Instantly crystallizing like the air around me,


I saw you,


And hope that you know, this beauty was made,


From my glowing heart, for yours










And I want you to know,


That indeed, the best part of my day,


The one thing I looked forward to,


Was to see your face,


Walking up to me,


Beaming as you often did,


Warming my frozen heart,


Making me see beauty in everything

The Number

I wonder when those digits,

Now engrained in a place,

That makes you think of me,

Those finger touches,

Learned in the muscles,

May fade from you,

I see that name on the screen,

And I see the way you see,

And why things are this way,

And all I can think about,

Is that moment,

In that place,

The crowd swaying,

Crooning,

To our love,

Then and there,

The most,

The best,

And here…

I wonder how I will,

Find something to place,

Where you were,

And I wonder how soon,

Those numbers will fade,

From your finger touches,

And it must be like this,

Tragic and foreseen,

In love and life,

And all I can think about,

Is the way you look,

In those places,

The grasses swaying,

Watching,

Our love,

In my eyes,

And there,

The perfect,

And beautiful,

Shall rest,

In memory and love,


and honesty.

Underbrush

I found her deep under the tall grasses,



Hiding in the shade of the birch bark beauties,


And the supple wetness of the rot and decay,


With Tangled roots holding the ground around her,


Together,






Together,






I am afraid to transplant her into my soil,


For in my life the bright light of day,


And those same birch bark beauties,


Can be quite dry and overwhelming,


Altogether,






Altogether,






And never would I allow harm to find her,


Carefully made umbrellas and tall grasses planted,


And those birch bark beauties with reaching hands,


Will embrace her roots within their own,


Forever,






Forever,






Is all I can think these days,


From my deep shadowy place under the leaves,


Fallen from the birch bark beauties hands,


My own roots entwining around hers,


Indeed, forever.

Transfer of Power

The transfer of power is in each of us,



We do this daily,


Allow and take the power,


To make our way through the day,






Power… is something that we all possess,


It can be used for making and for malice,


Trust in your heart and make the choices,


Meant to be who you are and what you represent,






Transfer… can be simple showing of emotion,


It can also take the shape of hiding in the shadows,


And every relationship contains a bit of both,


But be not afraid to show what is real,






For the real is the way to see,


And to be in truth and harmony,


Is the lightest way to live,


For it opens the closed doors in us and others,






And love… most of all… love


Love yourself first,


Love your family and friends with equal vigour,


And all things will find a home in that love,

First things First

Let me start with this…



In order to write into a Blog,



I start with good music,



It helps to be in love with something or someone, or rather to have a muse (life is the perfect muse)…



And don’t forget to use imagery as a point of reference for the writing,



Also, I note that prewriting the words, in a word processing tool is very important… for the blog interface is prone to failure; and damn, let me tell you the nature of frustration that builds when 2 hours of creative flow… gets lost to the wind.



And really… there is no need to have something to say.



It’s simply a place that I use to take the weight off my teeming mind,



To place somewhere… like the pensive of Headmaster Dumbledore’s study…



Any of the things that I need to say…

And really, most importantly… it is a place

Where I can create… and I live for this…

Creation process…



Lifting me up into the moon lit clouds,

In the moment of burning keys,

Freely flowing from me to you,



And, really… grammar… is important…

But this is a free space…

So let it rip… for you will ruin the flow if you stop to think about how one should or should not say something…and just trust… that over time… learning will come.



Thank you for seeing this…



And may you come back… read my innermost… perhaps be inspired… and…



perhaps… find something that you can do to open up your mind,



To your own thoughts.