Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Wake Up Sun

The rooster and I were both up before the sunrise. The early morn was still dark and a bit foggy , yet the cooler temperatures seem to be an encouragement to put in a couple miles before the sun rises. Embroiled in a web of circumstance, much which seemed out of my control. The long walk now lit by the pump station reminded me that taking responsibility for ones own actions, actually as a way of breaking through the web that tried to choke off my breath.
So very much alone and at the same time not, as the birds began to chirp their morning song and the light of day was burning through the fog. I couldn't help but ask myself, what is our purpose upon this earth? Knowing very well it varies for all of us. The hollow can sometimes be a remarkable place as it is not far from the main road and yet as an air of paradise. It has the ability to retain all memories. From the planting of a tree, to the flowers that paint the hills in early spring and to not forget each season that passes, only to circle back.
I am neither sad nor happy, maybe a bit indifferent as my emotions are not ruling the moment at this time. Yet I felt the shadows of yesterday consume my thoughts. With all the movement around me there was an old stillness as if I were truly a part of a canvas. The canvas of life which was separate from the rest of the world. The traits of humanity surfaced, love and hate in the same breath. Followed by disappointment and a understanding of a road that kept circling back. Like cobble stones of truth, each step revealed a story, with two sides very different.

Voiceless goodbyes,
turn around and walkaway,
another chapter, another day,
an empty page still remains.

Words written for tomorrow,
dipped deep in sorrow,
close the book and put it away,
emotions will not rule this day.

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