Some See Nature

The tree which moves some to

tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing

that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule

and deformity, and some scarce see Nature at all.  

But to the eyes of the man of imagination, 
Nature is Imagination itself.

- William Blake, 

1799, The Letters 

My Masterpiece Unsigned

I came so far for beauty

I left so much behind:

my patience and my family,

my masterpiece unsigned

I thought I'd be rewarded

for such a lonely choice…

– an excerpt from 'Came So Far For Beauty'

by Leonard Cohen

A Laborious Mosaic

There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.”

– Anais Nin

To Neighborhoods Of Pause

Great Streets Of Silence Led Away

Great Streets of silence led away
To Neighborhoods of Pause —
Here was no Notice — no Dissent
No Universe — no laws —

By Clocks, 'twas Morning, and for Night
The Bells at Distance called —
But Epoch had no basis here
For Period exhaled.

– Emily Dickinson

A Great Big World

Red Dirt Girl

She said there's not much hope for a red dirt girl 

Somewhere out there is a great big world

Thats where I'm bound

And the stars might fall on Alabama

But one of these days I'm gonna swing 

My hammer down

Away from this red dirt town

I'm gonna make a joyful sound…

– as sung by Emmylou Harris

Let Us, Then, Be Up And Doing

And so, we set out one morning eagerly anticipating our hike up an arduous trail renowned for its challenging assent towards the apex of a local mountain. It required on our part, physical strength as well as endurance in order for each of us to claim its peak. Though the trail’s distance was less than 3km, the climb was an elevation of more than 850m.

As our footsteps weaved their way up the mountain’s slope, they traversed many wooden steps as well as various rocky sections. On approaching the third quarter, legs began to ache, informing a few of us that surely, this part of the trail must be the steepest. Quick glances to the precipitous, rugged landscape that lay shrouded in silence below, cautioned our every tread.

On reaching the fourth quarter, our minds were prodded with a “keep going, you're almost there” kind of command. On successfully reaching the top, we felt in our hearts a certain kind of euphoria, brought on by an enthusiastic sense of accomplishment. Deep within we felt as though we had magnificently positioned ourselves atop the world that surrounded us. When the exhilarating rush of adrenaline finally abated, we congratulated each other on successfully completing the grueling climb known in these parts as 'The Grind'.

A Psalm of Life

What the heart of the young man said to the psalmist

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream! –

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,--act in the living present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Landscape Erupted

I stood alone

but not alone on a hill

contemplating the mystery

of each reticent flower,

then a faint light began to grow

and the landscape erupted.

As the sun opened

so too did the lovely flowers

and shortly thereafter,

a few clear-edged thoughts

begging for my attention,

turned my heart towards home.

Do Not Surrender

The Dove

I saw the dove come down, the dove with the

green twig, the childish dove out of the storm and

flood. It came towards me in the style of the Holy Spirit

descending. I had been sitting in a cafe for twenty-five

years waiting for this vision. It hovered over the great

quarrel. I surrendered to the iron laws of the moral universe 
which make a boredom out of everything desired. Do not
surrender, said the dove. I have come to make a nest in your shoe. I want your step to be light.

– Leonard Cohen

As It Ever Was

A tree growing out of the ground

is as wonderful today as it ever was. 

It does not need to adopt

new and startling methods. 

– Robert Henri

Solitude

Colourful Interpretations

Bodies click together of their own accord, augmenting colourful interpretations of one to the other. Within the soul, combinations of cyan, magenta, yellow and black amalgamate in endless hushed communications. Behold a simple butterfly, a symbol perhaps of the human soul, whose variegated colours go well beyond ink’s Technicolor to copy their intricate design, and so it is helpful to keep in mind how the eye of the mind perceives a colours certainty. The mind is at no pains of proving the ingenious interplay of colours that loiter in the mind’s eye, but it works steadily towards the intriguing possibility of perceiving some sort of truth.

I Myself Decided

Raspberry Ice Aspirations

Between the wild orchid walls of memory

that were never closely examined, yet existed, 
I witnessed benumbed raspberry ice aspirations

as lavender lipstick desires blazed within. But now
awareness congeals slowly into firm ideologies.

Forever my voice held its tongue

then finally gathered itself, finding a way

out of the labyrinth of all that lay incohesive

and thus inconsolable, at the axis

of my anemic, pensive core.

And so, this silent beached plum

of a self, courageously echoes an efflorescent song,

atop the landscapes of each worldly encounter.

A self who’s notes expressively try to assert 

a glorious robustness midst its various explorations.

I Shall Abide Until

If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will

– Leonard Cohen

Enigmatic Glimpses

At different times and places

we catch enigmatic glimpses of ourselves,

opaque replicas suspended in mirage.

Through the catacombs of memory, 

our present self imagines 

that peculiar self of the past. 

Coming again to each other

after all that time, thinking possibly

we'd both ceased to endure. 

Perhaps one day, 

struck by a few simple words

we'll catch sight of ourselves, 

and rejoice once again,

finding 'our self' in a poem

that for now, just doesn’t exist. 

My body’s now a begging bowl, 
that’s begging to get back, begging to get back 
To my heart, to the rhythm of my soul, 
to the rhythm of my unconsciousness.

Someone To Blame

HOLD ON

They hung a sign up in our town 

"if you live it up, you won't 

Live it down" 

So, she left Marty Rio's son 

Just like a bullet leaves a gun 

With charcoal eyes and Monroe hips 

She went and took that California trip 

Well, the moon was gold, her 

Hair like wind 

She said don't look back just 

Come on Jim 

Oh you got to 

Hold on, Hold on 

You got to hold on 

Take my hand, I'm standing right here 

You gotta hold on. 

Well, he gave her a dimestore watch 

And a ring made from a spoon 

Everyone is looking for someone to blame 

But you share my bed, you share my name. 

Well, go ahead and call the cops 

You don't meet nice girls in coffee shops 

She said baby, I still love you 

Sometimes there's nothin left to do 

Oh you got to 

Hold on, hold on 

You got to hold on 

Take my hand, I'm standing right here, you got to hold on…

– as sung by Tom Waits

The Passers-by

At the moment of surrender 

Of vision over visibility 

I did not notice the passers-by 

And they did not notice me


– as sung by U2

The Broken Mirror Of Innocence

Every Grain Of Sand

I have gone from rags to riches 

in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, 

in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness 

fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence 

on each forgotten face…

– as sung by Emmylou Harris

The Simplicities Of Pleasure

Whisper'd In The Sounds Of Silence

The Sound Of Silence


Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

– as sung by Paul Simon

To Witness The Unexplored

I missed the bus, yeah, I did it again
That's when I first me the Parisian

Poet, angel it was his idea
I take my place in Bohemia
I've got a view nobody's seen
I read Burroughs but I keep it clean
I go places inside my head
With an eye on tomorrow to keep my soul fed
I came here of m own accord
I came to witness the unexplored
Green valleys and a fertile sea
I came to rediscover the real me
I like it here at least so far
I've got no plans of saying au revoir
Elevated visions when I close my eyes
Stretched out underneath these amaranth skies
Make me feel...
Closer than I've ever been to being alive
Since I've arrived in Bohemia
Late afternoon is a time to dream
I like to listen to Coltraine's "A Love Supreme"
Then I leave my rented room and I walk
Through the fading light down streets that talk
I always meet someone I could call a friend
Prejudice is something we must transcend
Coming into season this world will flower
With the power of love, not the love of power
And I feel, closer than I've ever been
To being alive since I've arrived in Bohemia
Independent spirit... temper us inside
With the strength to live a life fulfilled
And not denied.

– Bohemia, as sung by Mae Moore

. . . . .

I have tried in my way to be free.

Here's to the few who forgive what you do, 
and the fewer who don't even care


~ Leonard Cohen

Only The Beginning

After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn’t it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked—as I am surprisingly often—why I bother to get up in the mornings.

– Richard Dawkins

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning.  

– Ivy Baker Priest