flying straight and true,
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
The Macbeth Syndrome
So many things I want to do, but so many restrictions!
I feel so hemmed in right now.
A myriad path, but each path is so small, not even big enough for one to walk along!
A case of being a jack of all trades, but a master of none.
Walls closing in!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Inspiration?
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I descended a dusty gravel ridge
Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge
Until I eventually arrived
At the place where your soul had died
Barefoot in the shallow creek
I grabbed some stones from underneath
And waited for you to speak to me
And the silence, it became so very clear
That you had long ago disappeared
I cursed myself for being surprised
That this didn't play like it did in my mind
All the way from San Francisco
As I chased the end of your road
Because I've still got miles to go
I want to know my fate if I keep up this way
It's hard to want to stay awake
When everyone you meet they all seem to be asleep
And you wonder if you're missing your dream
You can't see your dream
You can't see your dream
You just can't see your dream
Then it started getting dark
And I trudged back to where the car was parked
No closer to any kind of truth
As I must assume was the case with you
Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge
Until I eventually arrived
At the place where your soul had died
Barefoot in the shallow creek
I grabbed some stones from underneath
And waited for you to speak to me
And the silence, it became so very clear
That you had long ago disappeared
I cursed myself for being surprised
That this didn't play like it did in my mind
All the way from San Francisco
As I chased the end of your road
Because I've still got miles to go
I want to know my fate if I keep up this way
It's hard to want to stay awake
When everyone you meet they all seem to be asleep
And you wonder if you're missing your dream
You can't see your dream
You can't see your dream
You just can't see your dream
Then it started getting dark
And I trudged back to where the car was parked
No closer to any kind of truth
As I must assume was the case with you
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Himmel Kuppel
Back in my younger years, I'd look up at the sky.
More specifically, I'd gaze at the clouds and wonder what secrets they held. I believed that the clouds held treasure, secrets, a wonderland, a cornucopia.
Most of all, I imagined that clouds held our dreams.
Clouds are free, unhinged, not drawn in stark lines and shapes, and roam free across the blue canvas of the sky. They are hewn from fine material, in the thinnest filaments and fibres drawn from the loom by unseen hands.
Our dreams are floating, never quite concrete, always seemingly too high for us to reach. They come and go, passing us by with time.
I have a lot of dreams. I don't perceive all of them will ever be fulfilled. But it's important to try.
As the old cliche goes : Reach for the stars (clouds?) and even if you don't make it, you'll still be a long way above the dirt."
More specifically, I'd gaze at the clouds and wonder what secrets they held. I believed that the clouds held treasure, secrets, a wonderland, a cornucopia.
Most of all, I imagined that clouds held our dreams.
Clouds are free, unhinged, not drawn in stark lines and shapes, and roam free across the blue canvas of the sky. They are hewn from fine material, in the thinnest filaments and fibres drawn from the loom by unseen hands.
Our dreams are floating, never quite concrete, always seemingly too high for us to reach. They come and go, passing us by with time.
I have a lot of dreams. I don't perceive all of them will ever be fulfilled. But it's important to try.
As the old cliche goes : Reach for the stars (clouds?) and even if you don't make it, you'll still be a long way above the dirt."
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