the end result of guilt complexes arranged by blameless anonymity, a work ethic gone astray or simply set foot in unknown territory that seeks a new approach, less marketing and more genuine. the tried and true may have failed, and so on and so forth, there is an irresistible draw of open space, close confines of itchy newness on a hot day, certain positions bring with them more pressure, as if i am a totally passive bystander.........
the breakfast jollies with old friends and new ones too, the flood of nostalgia and waves of what's to come. lives unedited in the present tense is the goal of the day, a mountain to climb and time to kill................
bliss-filled days avenge the nights of tortured artist, the illusion self perpetuates and dilutes everything it touches, the woods speak and although, "the owls are not what they seem", there are secrets in the distant hoos and the racing pulses associated with wildlife sightings. afraid i am of the mountaintop experiences for the addiction is strong and i am only.........
overpowered to the point of disassociation, hardly feeling qualified to consider myself a part of nature. the beauty is overwhelming; disconnection, destruction, the results of comforting choices, a quick trip to the store for more. these are the days of our lives, the raspberries slowly creep onto the road, and the silence is menacing to a racing brain. the choices are obvious but not easy.................
long format walks in the forested regions of the here and now are the only inspiration necessary at this time it seems. unable, or more likely unwilling, to subscribe to anything promoting itself as truth i will wile away the days staring.......
chained to the reality of what is, one forgets the limitations, as limping paws suggest the decline of invincibility, and the nurturing of seeds requires an ever growing patience, dig deep..........
