Reaching New Heights

Its indomitable countenance 

compliments, so beautifully, the day…

Time In Its Telling

Stock-Still

On the surface of an eye,

lingering in the light – a shadow

reflected through a window…

It Moves Me So

to look back on the distance I have come

– Nelson Mandela

Under Varying Conditions Of Light

It has merely become.

An Informal Visit

in·for·mal [in-fawr-muh l]

adjective

1.

without formality 

or ceremony; 

casual

There Is Nothing More

Standing beside it

in the corner of a room

I watch its eyes watch me…

In That Wonderful State

The object isn't to make art, 

it's to be in that wonderful state 

which makes art inevitable.

– Robert Henri

. . . . .

For a moment I left the world 

it had formerly observed and entered another

eliciting a sense of the unknown.

Interstices

This Is For You

In your light I learn how to love. 

In your beauty, how to make poems. 

You dance 

inside my chest 

where no-one sees you, 

but sometimes 

I do, 

and that sight 

becomes this art.

– Rumi

. . . . .

and I move with the energy 

of your prayer

and I move in the direction

of your prayer

– Leonard Cohen

Lasting But For A Brief Time

In a lurching move hungry eyes

pull away from the stone,

homing in on the ceiling overspread

with a panoply of quickening clouds –

their airy forms breaking open…

Thisness

this·ness noun \ˈthisnə̇s\

The quality in a thing of being here and now or such as it is.

The concrete objective reality of a thing.

It Loves To Hide

Its streets I walk.

Listening not to me

but to nature's duende –

nothing can equal it.

Before my eyes

what is

naturally seen

precisely is

wordless

penetrating its mystery
infinite aspects of it

cannot be named

but swirling

is a sublime poetry

in everything 

forged from it.

. . . . .

In our sense perceptions, if we are not sure of what we see we change our position while looking, and what is real becomes evident. In the inner life, time takes the place of space. With time we are altered, and, if as we change we keep our gaze directed towards the same thing, in the end illusions are scattered and the real becomes visible. This is on condition that the attention be a looking and not an attachment.

– Simone Weil

Yielding To A Kindled Flame

Rooted To The Landscape

It stood for a long while –

parts of it anchored to the ground…

'Tween The Windows The Mind Teeters

Eyes Half-Closed

After A Long Time

Even as

evening casts forth

a thin curve of moon,

inside a wildness endures.

Particles of dust settle

onto a collection of

well-preserved buds…

Instinct Is Enough

In art

instinct is enough.

(quote by Anatole France)

. . . . .

Do what you do.

Be just who you are.

Commit to Love.

Give it all you've got.

Orchestrating A Certain Mood

Even In Its Fading

Leaving Something Behind

There Is A Strength There

And I thought

maybe
it was that –

that I felt

that I fit well

with my quiet
surroundings –
feeling that

energy emanating
a positive

expression –

and listening
to it

with no one

else around –
thoughts multiplied,

luring me
toward

some form 
of
transformation.

. . . . .

He didn't know what the point of the journey was, 

but he did believe we were designed to search for and find something. 

And he wondered out loud if the point wasn't the search 

but the transformation the search creates. ...

[I wondered] 

that we were designed to live 

through something rather than to attain something, 

and the thing we were meant to live through 

was designed to change us. 

The point of a story is the character arc, 

the change.

– Donald Miller