Tom Waits quiets restless thoughts. Allowing life to occur around me-falling short of ideals. That sound is known-unspoken and understood. Am I going to take a step? Any direction or path leads on just the same. How each is traveled makes the man. Knowing that regret is unnecessary. Feeling content from the innate sense of self. I reach outwards to grasp things within my own heart. Suffocated by my own inability to expand my bubble. All the options before me and I stand-stationary. Moving at the speed of earth rotation. That is just it, the world is spinning round-I float along eyes closed asleep in my river boat. Bobbing up and down with river discord. Always a bit scared to allow myself onwards under my own wake. Recognition of the choice. The only choice-love or ego. Tomorrow is a new day, but tonight is a new night of dreams and a life to be lived-free.
Ego the author of the piece above. Writing distress for the sake of adding to the worlds volumes. Unease comes from inside-a mindset within my realm of control. Worn leather reigns in my finger tips atop an imaginary saddle. Powered by strength of will and vigor for life's ride-a full circle in the end. A circle that never repeats but travels on just the same. Surrounded by covered mirrors-bent, elongated, broken or polished perfection, all life perceived reflects the individual viewer. How to view The Yellow Rose without naming it? Essence no language can formulate-an innate understanding of seeing it for the first time. To view and understand being in one is to see in all.
Another for the world's volumes-no longer within Greg or I. "I am not sure which one of us it is that's writing this page" (Borges, Jorge Luis)
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1 comment:
How did I miss this??? Sometimes it is quite difficult to discern where we are, where we are to go and what it is we most need to see, so I get to wandering too...out amongst it or deep inside, both places much mystery. Too many questions, not enough answers usually. I settle for the breeze finally...
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