tracing drawings, centuries old.
Embroidering fascinating designs into imaginative
scores of life’s fateful reality, stretching
temptingly without being blocked by anything.
Settling down with thought as my guide, I rest
easily, not worrying about tomorrow and it’s set
rules.
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Chasing notes throughout the night, hitting the darkness with a lightening streak and thunder, waking up the facets sleeping inside.
Harping to destinations in other dimensions off the charts of human conditions.Arranging the beauty of every day timing, collating with sensations of imagination.All in the moment of a morning sunrise.
Panels of discussion take on a meaning and liveliness of their own.
Thinking slowly, yet bringing mythical proportions to unseemly portends of life.Beckoning to major thoughts of insistence as time forges itself further and further into an avalanche of beautific values.
Gently I soothe integrated images with visions of yesterday.
Holding onto meanings, writing them legibly into books of thoughtful poetry.
Inspiration flowing throughout my being, giving an essence of inner poetical mysteries, and generating a peaceful serenity of seclusion.
Seeking times of ideal loyalties, walking carefully through abject tears as they fall to their demise, never living on edges of eternal beautification.