The creation of this blog symbolizes my step to begin publishing and circulating my work on the largest scale possible. I wish only to make the world a better place as a result of my existence, and every cumulative major event in my life has led me to the realization that this is my true purpose. My gift for writing is not to be ignored, it's not to be hidden any longer: but rather pursued, appreciated, and shared. I am unable to change the world from the pages of a notebook, and thus I present the world with the first glimpse at what I have always dreamed to be my life's work. Without further ado: Genesis Beginnings, sugar sweet as glucose, Pumping through trees meaning new growth And breeze sweeping the land as throes Of mother Nature's diminishing prose, Who will save us, we don't yet know But someone must come to disclose the woes Of a world so furtively breathing below The suffocating breadth of a life we chose. Exploring more, destroying scores Of be...
12:08 AM Who am I? I search inside, I seek the source of heart and mind And find that many questions rise. It’s witching hours— The spirit that devours me is waking: Can you hear it whispering? Feel it kicking into life? Eight past midnight: Genesis, I am a vision born in silence, Chasing at the great unknown Beyond these mystical horizons. Even when I write, When I project this voice divine Like windows let in sunshine— I’m feeling less than certain yet. Who am I? Am I some reflection? Am I simply a given name? Am I the courier of an ancient message? These are only partly true— BrontĂ«, Shelley, Wordsworth too Do live inside the fire I store. I am in part these writers’ dreams. Or rather a pristine reflection, Human experience with a name. Forged in part by years of change Like waves that carve the ocean cliff. I am a mission bound by fate: Beseeched by seraphim unknown To bear the sacred torch of hope To brig...
Night Swimming I walk along the sweeping shore, Counting stars that dance within The shadow of the ivory moon— Do they look up at it too? Years and years ago Like a ghost was in my shoes, Someone sat where I do now And prayed to God that life would slow… The river trickles in the stones Until it flows into the rapids... Faster every day and yet We can’t escape the current. It drains into the lake of dreams— Trapped behind that windowpane, The glow of hopes and memories Is tinted with a phantom green, That silvered surface of this lake Mirrors what the river bleeds. I used to be so much afraid To show my heart and face the grave. Yet sweet exposure carries me, Like leaves upon the summer breeze, To finding peace upon the shore Where I will rest eventually. Summertime is coming soon With pining gazes at the moon— Have you come to know of me As well as I have known of you? I smile while I cry again For sacred souls th...
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