the sun was hot but not the air it was just right the breeze taking a breath and then blowing again across the lake and through my hair and for a moment almost believing i belonged there image: photo taken at the lower lake at the marissa rec area. illinois. may 2016Continue reading “just right”
no trespassing… it must be expressed i guess even though i already know that it’s not my place within this space i already know this is so and yet i bet if i did go inside i would not need to hide my face Image: photo taken in New Athens, Illinois .Continue reading “and yet”
if there is a plan someone else has it black ink print on brittle yellow paper telling when the flight will leave and where it will land sooner or later
#4 from the list of seven changes Speak softly instead of loudly . I have found that speaking louder has never helped me get anyone’s attention, nor has it helped to get a point across. A loud voice reminds me of all the colourful balloons and flags that a store puts out on the sidewalkContinue reading “softly”
. A choice is made. But, it takes a person ages to realize the immensity of it. We know that it was a choice to follow Jesus. We are brought to a place of awareness that, somewhere along the line, we have made the choice that our heart knows is right. And we find thatContinue reading “choice”
. i can go there so easily to wish for something other oh, mother life is a bitch when i won’t be satisfied when i deny the beauty in front of my eyes and i wail of my loss that i alone have caused as i have wanted what i do not have and only needContinue reading “dance of death”
. there is one i’ve come to know and that is where i now will go into the arms myself i’ll throw and leave no hint of sorrow . .
God willing, the plan is… for cj and i to be leaving soon on a road trip, to travel to and through quite a few states around the country. It is our waves of June. I am, with purpose, planing to spend very little time on-line. I don’t know how much iContinue reading “places”
. . . . . . money plays its part lighting up the stage pretending to be the lead until we turn on a dime and buy it . . . . .
. . . there is a current that flows . no one has seen where it comes from or where it goes . but it makes it’s way blowing through hearts open like fresh air through a window on a summer’s day . . .
. . . as my mind spins mulberry thread to weave into a silken dream thereupon the edge of sleep i step on through . . .
. . . you’re a sweet orange playing the blues with no rhyme sticky words speaking understanding of my wicked heart that will not listen to you when it hears the whisper of words that sing in golden hue . . .