Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

Giving It To The Sky

The early morn finds the full moon brightly shining through the trees. The view right outside my window cast light upon moment where the is sun preparing to rise has yet not taken its rightful place in my morning sky. It is as if I am witnessing the changing of the guards, where the moon steps back and another day begins.
I in many ways I welcome the solitude that this early morn provides . It is unquestionably the most peaceful time of day. As I watch the moon slip slowly behind a passing cloud, the world becomes much smaller. my moon is your moon, my stars your stars, my sun your sun. Close as my morning thoughts and distanced by miles.
The array of mementos scattered across my desk have been at the forefront of my daily thoughts. To anyone else it would appear as if it were only bric-brac without meaning. Yet each piece documented a step in the journey. From the simplicity of the geodes the children gave me to the random items I somehow collected along the way each with their anchor to a memory. Chapters of a journey, the crystal ball, the angels, the train that could, etc,I looked and each provided a renewed lesson of life. I saw the expectation of others. The holding on to dreams and the believing that all is possible.
I know the years have passed quickly and that I have achieved much in this game of chutes and ladders. I climbed up to find myself sliding back many times. I saw life atop a mountain and felt the loneliness that the hollow placed upon me. I lived a journey enriched with friendship, love and laughter and again one seeped in fear.

The sun is rising,
the morning bright,
good bye moon
till tonight.

Take my dreams,
hold them dear,
I carefully had
chosen which
ones to share.

Peaceful and loving,
content am I,
taking a memory
and giving it to the sky.

Staying Strong

When to hold on
and when to let go,
when to laugh and
when to cry.

When to dream
and when to wake up,
When to have faith
and when to have a reality


Many ships are in passing,
few anchor.
I was determined to rewrite a story
that cannot be rewritten.

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