Lately, I've been raining. I've wet words and hands and persistent confirmations regarding life moving forward. Life moves forward and I'm just like the brick in the wall that sings and sings and sings to me over and over and over and over and over and over and there are some moments when I get it. I get the big picture but it's only a moment and then I go back to the thick grinding of day to day. Yes, I've been raining and it wets my every step.
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Moon moon moon moon moon moon moon mother walk me home tonight and bring me peace.
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I've been raining as of late and when the sun comes I stop to pay tribute to all impostors of joy and hope and happiness and subtle understanding but I never stop raining.
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Like the snow blowing coldly across these fields I wait for spring.
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How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
-William Ernest Henley
about me
Just sitting here, wandering around. Peeking out from time to time. Wondering what's on the other side of the hill.
Me and my dog. Me and my running shoes.
I'll drink the drink and eat the food and rub my hands in the dirt. I'll do handstands in the snow. Laughing and dancing with a straight face.
Me and my dog. Me and my running shoes.
I'll drink the drink and eat the food and rub my hands in the dirt. I'll do handstands in the snow. Laughing and dancing with a straight face.
about wording why
Wording Why is a word workstation of sorts, a space to create vivid snapshots, to tinker with sentences and sounds and pacing, to take things I've experienced (big or small, real or imagined) and paint them into something new.
In the beginning, elements of truth outweighed fiction, but that trend has reversed over the years. Although many posts still contain elements of truth, this should not be confused with a journal or personal nonfiction.
Images as words.
In the beginning, elements of truth outweighed fiction, but that trend has reversed over the years. Although many posts still contain elements of truth, this should not be confused with a journal or personal nonfiction.
Images as words.
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Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
-William Ernest Henley
1 comment:
"...moon mother walk me home tonight...
I like that.
The whole thing is beautiful. One of your best. Funny how the pain of life does that to the artist.
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