Road Trip

Dear Friends of WordPress,

You may have noticed that during the last mouth or so I’ve spent less time blogging. Nothing wrong, I just decided to take a road trip, as Jack would call it. And this one took me through out the south to places known and unknown. Who knows the riches in words that will fall from this tree. We’re on the last few miles before calling on home to guide us in.

Thank you for your support, JC

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Image courtesy of Pixabay

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Sail On

My sails catch wind from inhospitable surroundings into darkened waters. And to see any light only intends to surround me with more darkness. It is in this velvet serenity that at times I feel most at home. Give me the bare shadow of a new moon or the slight crescent of the bull moon so not to take away from the seemingly contradictory warmth of a dark cold night. I visit this place often and its focus is always on a new understanding, a perception different from the previous stay but somehow the same in its approach to life and love.

©jc2019-9… Images by Picsabee …

Dragons Nine

What should one do, stand still in the rain, umbrella open, guarding every inch of your body against the raindrops falling asunder like water in a perpetual storm? Or, maybe one should throw the umbrella aside and splash head-on into the blissful water shouting hallelujah amidst the splashing of each puddle in defiance of the proper way of society. Continue reading Dragons Nine

The Mystic is Nine

“Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic” -Van Morrison

Find something, anything, which is so encompassing that in a given block of time it enthralls you to get lost together in unconsciousness. Such things are beyond space and time, it is bliss and one only questions the indignities of why when not doing this transcendent work. Indeed others drown in the waters the mystic swims in.

*Image by Pixabay

©jc2019-9 Happy New Year, ask and the numbers shall guide you.

  

River Song

Tonight our Pilgrim sleeps under velvet skies
As we count the days since the caravans have departed winter’s rite
He finds his beloved in a hundred murid images
The clues hiding deep in these crossed roads of a poet’s second-hand notebook. Continue reading River Song

Home

In reality, the house was rather small. But it’s enormous in accordance with the memories of my youth as it was the first house I actually remember calling home. Things always seem bigger and grander when the past is taken in by reminiscence under the disguise of myth. Continue reading Home