Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Every Story has an End

It has been one of those seasons where there has been more rain than sunshine. The dark and gloomy days of summer find me canceling events as well as reviewing my life. I am not sure if it is the older I get the wiser I am or with time you just  become more aware and interpret life differently. I have found myself not necessary lost in thought but almost reliving my own reaction to a moment in time. Sometimes it is awareness, knowledge and time itself that alters my thoughts. As I look back one thing is certain and that is that we truly only know what we our self think, everything else is left to ones own interpretation. This is how we complicate life as we try to understand the actions and thoughts of others. So instead of wondering what someone means or analyzing a situation, I decided to look closely into myself to understand my own reactions and actions better. When a top spins and stand up by centrifugal force an thus goes round and round. I feel the same way as long as I am moving, I stay spinning without thought but as the day slows my mind picks up where my thoughts take over . 

It is true,
my heart doth speak,
for memories within
my spirit peak.

I sensed it,
felt it and I knew it
to be true, when
gray skies turned to
the brightest blue.

I laughed and giggled
and danced on clouds
as my heart sang out

Time has passed,
days gone by,
little by little
riddles the mind.
It wasn't always clear,
though laid brick by brick
with truth. The crossing
of a path, the shades
in every hue, two
souls in passing
under skies of blue.
Life is but a riddle,
a puzzling day or two,
mystified I pose to
solve as each problem

Difficult it maybe,
not all would understand,
as I questioned the
revelation of every
grain of sand.

I couldn't rewrite the chapters
all I could do was review as
I tore each page from the
book and said my adieu.

It was rather persistent the ache I felt inside,
distressed and disturbing it toyed with my mind.
I sensed a thread of compassion stitched into the
day, providing a canvas that somehow seemed
to fray.
The visual incomplete,
one sided at best and
though desire was the
object, the concept
was the test.


The images are clearer
I can see them very well
and in this story a
verse of heaven and

Our earthly goals are but a test
that lead us to the gates of heaven.


There are many ways to die,
each equally painful, death of
the heart, soul, body and mind,
but nothing hurts like the
danger that pierces the heart.
Attainable the goals ,
simple as can be to
drive through the
redwoods and make
love at sea.
To travel abroad
and return peacefully,
lying by a fire
your arms around me.
 The gift received though unintended,
compassion and desire, rolled in
dreams , placed in the heart
creates a blazing fire.

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