If 6 were 3, I’d like to be all the things that you will see, if 6 were 3. Continue reading If 6 were 3, I’d like to be…
In the city of my birth,
On the third floor of Beckham’s Book Shop,
Surrounded by stacks of books I can only dream of reading every title,
Falling asleep on this worn out couch,
The musty smell making me dizzy.
They call it ‘the city that time forgot’ and continues to forget as we saw with Katrina,
Or the ‘crescent city’ for the bend in the river which Bienville saw as strategic,
Many nights I walked that same bend along the railroad tracks by the river’s edge,
Drinking hot beer procured from the abandoned Jax Brewery,
Oblivious to the rich history I was born into.
Wandering these streets of the French Quarters,
Past the painters, fortune tellers and street musicians trying to make a dollar,
I find myself in St. Louis Cathedral staring at the stained glass,
The pipe organ playing Bach while someone is blowing a horn in Pirates Alley,
Both melding into a complexed whole, as candles from the altar, burn our sins away.
So many nights strolling down Bourbon Street in a haze,
How many ghosts have crossed my path this night,
Dripping in the humid air of summer is like breathing thru syrup,
Or the damp cold of winter cutting you to the bone.
Growing up we’d take the Algiers Ferry across the river to the West Bank,
When night falls on a full moon you can see the city’s horizon shimmering on the water,
I think we only leave home so we can love it all the more.
It is then I understand this longing I feel for my city by the river,
You never really get over it, just strike an uneven peace between the heart
*Photo courtesy of Pixabay
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it up carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket of the coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket– safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable. –C.S. Lewis (from The Four Loves) Continue reading Onward To the Palace of Wisdom- Love, Pt. 4
This post is part of a series of guest post authored by myself and other bloggers, published to my friend Monica’s blog site,‘look around!’Do yourself a favor and check out her blog at: https://lookaround99.wordpress.com and my post On The Shoulders of Giants at:https://lookaround99.wordpress.com/2016/08/29/on-the-shoulders-of-giants/-look around!.
In time I also heard a singular voice whisper to me as though it were an echo of words spoken long ago that keeps going and will forever sound through the epochs of time as long as love and compassion inhabit this Earth… “There are many ways to touch and kiss the sky!” -JC
This post is part of a series of guest post authored by myself and other bloggers, published to my friend Monica’s blog site,‘look around!’Do yourself a favor and check out her blog at: https://lookaround99.wordpress.com and my post at:A1A South-look around!
The world is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.
‘A1A South, the Atlantic Coast of Florida… the smell of salt in the air.’
The sun has completed its’ day’s work, evening tide, Helios rein in your trusted steeds, you’ve given the night the warmth it needs… the moons dance with the clouds has just begun as we play hide and go seek from the sun. Continue reading A1A South… look around!
The Divine Fool Laila and Majnu (Qais) -Ganjavi (Persia)
Qais falls in love with the moon princess, Laila whose name means sweetheart. Sadly her father marries her to another man. Qais love is so obsessive that he’s deemed insane and forbidden from seeing his beloved Laila in the flesh again. Thus he sees her in everything else. Qais roams the streets known only as Majnu, which in Persian means, “love stricken, possessed, madness, a lunatic”. Continue reading Onward To the Palace of Wisdom- Love, Pt. 1
And at the end of the day
The vast array of stars in the night sky
Give sight to the moon holding secret
The meeting of an endless ocean to an endless horizon.
It is here that one can embrace the vastness of the universe
And it is here I shall stay. Continue reading Ocean
All parts away for the progress of souls;
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments, all
that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe,
falls into niches and corners before the procession of
Souls along the grand roads of the universe.
-Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road, Public Domain.
After the seventh sojourn, I see the unborn soul glide through the universe on its way to birth in the tangible realm. Its mannerisms, shadows, Continue reading Consider… The Soul, Vol.1
“Our life today is not conclusion; a sequel stands beyond where we will walk hand in hand. It is as invisible as music but positive as sound.” – Emily Dickenson
The cold morning air nips at my hands on this autumn day as I arrive at the Blowing Rock and stand at the edge where it drops off into Johns River Gorge some 3000 ft to the depths below. According to legend, if you drop anything from this cliff, it will return to you. Even the snow will fall upside down. Is this a myth, wind currents or magic? Maybe all 3 are correct; for the wind is magic and mythology speaks to truths unseen. Continue reading The Blowing Rock and The Red Moon
“We cannot change anything unless we accept it.”
“My boat strikes something deep, at first sounds of silence, waves. Nothing has happened; or perhaps everything has happened and I am sitting in my new life.”
-Rumi Continue reading Turn the Page