Showing posts from August, 2013

The Wings of Uncertainty

"Madness is the result not of uncertainty but of certainty." ~Frederich Nietzsche

Sometimes having some semblance of control of what happens in our lives is like a loosed canary from an open cage, we have it for a moment and once it escapes our hold, it could again light upon our finger or cross our path eventually, but we must face the fact that like a free bird we might never truly capture it within our grasp once more.

Directions Not Included

photo by Steven Kelly The Mag #183
"Men, like nails, lose their usefulness when they lose direction and begin to bend."   ~Walter Savage Landor

Sometimes I am rough like an old highway that is in desperate need of repair and I am stagnant like a puddle where there is no light to bring a glare. At times I am tattered like a worn hem on a dress no one will sew and I am meager like a garden where a careless gardener never goes. At times I am lost like a sparrow that has never built it's nest and I am lonely like a boring hostess that will never have a guest. Sometimes I am empty like a pew where the minister shall not preach and full of dust like antique furniture hidden beneath white sheets. At times my focus is for naught like an unused telescope on a starlit night and I am vacant like a building that it too damaged for someone to buy.  In this life there are no road signs to truly guide the way ahead and purpose can get lost if we drive like our foot is made of led. So …

A Hunger That Fills Buckets

photo by Elena Kalis The Mag #182 The ocean of the body crashes against the ocean of the heart. Between them is a barrier they cannot cross. ~Rumi Lost is the place my heart wanders nowhere that has an uttered name it's a choir that sings of loneliness a hunger that fills buckets like rain it's point of exact location cannot be found on any printed map it's a grain of sand to an ocean a skyscraper laying on its back  it's penciled in directions to a permanent destination that does not yet exist it's a doorbell to a deaf man a voice that shall forever have no lips the true logic of the code and boundaries is teardrops tied to a locked up gate it's a room that has no walls a fork that will never have a plate a broken heart is a manic hunter searching for candles inside the dark  it's a cure that has no potion a wound that will never leave a mark for love is a mighty fortress  that no human strength can truly lift it's a present we can only open if we ar…

Reaching for Wisdom with Foolish Hands

Drawing Hands, 1948 by M.C. Escher The Mag # 180 "Men are made stronger on realization that the helping hand they need is at the end of their own arm." ~Sidney J. Phillips I define my own ways at the sketching of my own hand,
drawing my own lines of reason like heritage defines a man.
The view that lies before me is a photo that only I can snap.
I can choose to capture the future or get tangled in the past.
All the expectations I hope to have unfold within my own arm's reach,
are not given by this world but earned painstakingly by only me.
For life is a pilgrimage of perspectives that I alone can observe and utilize
no other soul can grant it, my own hands must reach out and truly try.