I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all,” -Richard Wright
In a musty old cave lie’s a treasure chest and inside are scattered amongst the various pages of an odd notebook or two contain collections of poetry and prose without a home, with no prospects in sight. These words are to the point and do not own any lavish pretenses of grandeur. They simply speak their truth as directly as possible, such as the truth a child will convey out of sheer innocence. I fear that these short verses will fill volumes if I allow them as much and bring me to task for my truth. But I will do away with my unwanted disposition of fear and let this long and winding road of words take me to where they might lead, to the river of my memory, with its rich loom on the alluvial plain of my mind.
Important thing for the week to go back home is that
Impossible dreams that eat at the moments, one by one. in a cold blanket of fear and doubt… false initiatives that fade like the setting sun. I could be somebody if I could only wake up.
But the Phonix must rise again for another round! And now, the time has come; realization has its moment. For you discover that the key to your prison door was with you all along… now live, breathe and be in each moment no matter where they happen to fall. Shout yes skin your silence with a steady desire to constantly believe in the better nature of all sentient beings.
We are infinity and we chose not the wrong path, just one that’s meant to give direction. Like pieces to a puzzle on a dining room table… you can’t resist, pick up a piece and place it as we follow the moon to get to the sun.
*copyright 2020 jc *photo by pixapen*founded by jc2014
“I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all,” -Richard Wright
In an old damp cave or a treasure chest under the sea, scattered amongst pages, worn out pencils and to-do list, I’ve collected fragments of writing without a home, with no prospects in sight. These words are to the point and do not own any lavish pretenses of grandeur. They simply speak their truth as directly as possible, such as the truth a child will convey out of sheer innocence.Continue reading Echo’s In The Dark- Words
To be wild is not to be crazy or psychotic. True wildness is a love of nature, a delight in silence, a voice free to say spontaneous things, and an exuberant curiosity in the face of the unknown. -Robert Bly
It came to pass on this day, that the wild man who created such havoc casting out demon shadows he saw in others and himself; and the inquisitive boy yearning for knowledge at every waking moment, never getting enough, are one and the same for they are you and me, forced into enchantment and awareness, abiding in a lonely house off to the left-hand way of ‘being’ by the river of contemplation.Continue reading Pilgrim
Further along, the road of love is affirmed with our 5th installment as we take on 3 more inflections of love. Have we learned anything? Is the going on the particle accelerator of romance reaping anything new or do we smash into one another, scratch our heads because we have more questions than answers. They say only a fool talks of love. Well, I don’t see an end to our foolishness, so here goes.Continue reading Onward to The Palace of Wisdom- Love, Pt. 5
“Someday after we have mastered the winds, the waves, and gravity, we will harness for God the energies of love; and then for a second time in the history of the world, humans will have discovered fire.” -French philosopher Teilhard de Chardin.
The Perilous Bed In Arthurian legend, this is the enchanted bed that jerks up and down, to and fro as it tries to catapult its inhabitants to the floor. All the while deadly spears and ferocious beast assault the sleeper. It is Gawain who finally defeats the bed.Continue reading Onward To the Palace of Wisdom- Love, Pt. 3
The Artist Artistic expression is an undertaking of reverence toward the soul; of hidden things in the night which will simultaneously expand and unlock its secrets to the advantage of one’s art. But where do these epiphanies come from… esoterically without or within?
Comfort in Your Own Skin Soul is anything you do for yourself that feels comfortable to you; it centers you, completes you. It could be the clothes you wear, the music you hear, a morning cup of coffee. The soul requires this comfort. What is offbeat to one is soulful to another.Continue reading Consider… The Soul, Vol. 2
Our Pilgrim recognized the three aphorisms found in the composer’s desk after his passing. They are Egyptian in origin and although all three are similar in meaning… the emphasis was to stress his conviction in the manner in which he lived.