art, introspection, philosophy, Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized

The Dreaming Age

Sometimes something special reminds me what it’s like to dream again. And it’s like this hidden emotion that gets forgotten until something lights it up. And I see it as clearly as I did when I was younger, and simpler, and when things were much more magical. And it overcomes me. I don’t have to work for it. The dream just comes back to me. And that is more poetic to me than anything I can explain.

I think those kinds of dreams happen in that intricate time when we are changing from children into adults. I think that at some special youthful interval we get a chance to be overwhelmingly complex and fearlessly hopeful. I would dream so deeply then. My dreams tend to be more technical now, and less beautiful, and less like dreams and more like goals. Without the magic and without the hope of undamaged youth. But sometimes I hear a special song and it takes me back, and I feel more like myself than ever before.

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art, introspection, philosophy, photography, Poetry, spirituality, Uncategorized

Originally Me

Birthed
I began
My life ran
The light was on
I existed in the world
It all meant nothing back then
I wish it was still that way
But I am entangled with this built race
And now I don’t remember where I came from
Wishing I could know what it means to be me,
without you

Art Credit: Darian R. Stanovich

Poetry, Uncategorized

Lost and Looking

The clock has struck a chord
And much too late it rings
For Time I can’t afford
Or walk amid the spring
I gaze for royal blush
To cast a golden ray
And pause for calling thrush
To lead along the way
If serendipity
Has need of place to sleep
Then let her rest with me
With me the blessings keep

She feels the constant yearning in the wait
Those wishes cause the heart to grow too faint