Questions

Since the dawn of mankind, we have eternally stared at the face of the heavens trying to decipher our significance and what the God's have in store for us. We ponder and hope that the fates will not be too cruel and that we as humanity will thrive and not revert back to being animals...though as I sit in quiet observance of this world this topsy turvey backwards world I have to wonder if the regression has already begun. Do we surrender to this rapid decay of our higher selves then plummet into the maelstrom of degradation? Or do we stand as light houses in the raging storm bringing the hope of safe harbor to all who pass our way?

La Luna

Sang to the moon tonight hoping that it would answer my mournful cry and leap from the heavens into my arms...but alas la Luna prefers the perpetual chase across the heavens to my mere mortal call...

Identity?

Human fragility always starving for a scrap of identity. Deep within the struggle,the agony...the ecstasy, Light pierces through the shrouds of the deepest night. The soul, ever reaching skyward in endless possibility...while the body desperately clings to the threads of an unweaving tapestry of false reality

Circus of sorts...

I stood below watching the daredevil pursuit overhead. Enthralled, I watched the two tiny creatures race along in an anti-gravity defiance. Their voices shattering the stillness of the morning as they complete artistically choreographed acrobatic stunts. Suddenly their crazy banter changes as the smaller of the two leaps onto a branch unknowing of the thorny spires reaching skyward awaiting the chance to snag a piece of loose flesh. He cries out frightened and panicking as he is impaled by a four inch thorn underneath his arm. My heart bleeds and curses my helplessness with the situation and watch in horror as the larger of the two comes running down the branch to finish the captured foe. To my surprise and relief the larger of the two releases the other then continues the merry chase. What I had thought to be a violent outburst to destroy a usurper of territory, had in fact been a pure expression of joy for the return of the sun.
Don't make assumptions about outcome...lesson learned.

Stuck in the spin cycle...

Spinning...churning...reeling...burning...but forever pressing forward in blind diligence wondering when my fingers will pluck the golden apple. How much correspondence I have sent while on my quest that seems never ending. Is this dragon so large that even my vast ego will have to relinquish to its fiery breath?