::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

I journey on 06.18.2008

I fly above with watchful eye

to journey home

at last will i.

From places where

the ocean’s

 coast rush

 to meet the sloping shore,

past ancient bearded mountains

full of lore

I journey on.

o’er deep red stone the waters hewn

their path and paths to come

I journey on o’er rich gold fields

which glint and sway on wind’s heels

I journey home

to emerald valleys where rivers flow

and hidden there,

beneath the leaves,

you’ll find my heart,

though quivering.

although I’ve seen the wonders hidden

behind the shadow of the earth

a place both harsh and intricate,

a place for my rebirth

I long for peaceful quiet

and the hint of music


beckoning me home. 



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