You go, and you explore the world, You turn wherever you might choose, For once you make time meaningless, There's none to waste, and less to lose Than now, when all is cost and worry. Love, a dream of yesteryear -- You go, and you explore the world, Before the unseen things all Disappear
whisper where the wind blows west, murmur as your mind-paths meld into yellow yesterdays by the vanishing beheld -- leaves are rustling, and soft grows a feeling, undefined: susurration, sounds that say, you need not leave everything behind
He hears the Words she whispered once She meant them And really loved him That one lost autumn
Defining yourself By what you cannot do Is arbitrary in the extreme Since the number of such things Is infinite. In truth, we are The sum of all the things We do, or have done. Worrying about limitations Is like worrying about Not winning at the Olympics When you aren’t even entered.
The best days we ever have Aren’t about how we feel, But how others feel, around us.
If I was an Instagram model, And knew daily that Thirteen million people Saw pictures of my butt and thought, “Hey... I like that” I’m not quite sure what I’d think about anything else. Or that I ever would.
Social media algorithms Think I care about odd things. Facebook thinks I want to see Cheesy morality tale videos. I do, but... How did they know?
When I was a kid, I used to hear, “Never criticize someone Until you have walked a mile In their moccasins.” This was part of The popular wisdom of the time, Where empathy involved The appropriation of slippers. And culture, apparently.
gallimaufry interlude sandwiches and funyuns love among the doodling signs of peace and onions afterburner overdrive sophistry regalia meme that reaches everywhere of the pax vidalia whimsy, doves, and flower-buds people freed from dungeons gallimaufry interlude love & peace & onions
he was locked in a padded room, unsure how he got there, but pretty sure he had recently been in a taco bell, because he tried all five kinds of hot sauce, while he scribbled and colored in a notebook visions of peace and onions and the like until, someone tapped him on the shoulder, saying he needed to leave because because because he needed to leave, all that tapping on his shoulder don't touch my notebook, don't mess with my peace & onions, and hey, those are my colors he said colors like hot sauce packets all five kinds, he'd tried them it was a taco bell, del taco doesn't have all that, he was pretty sure, but what was this place?
“Not enough youths fighting windmills. And the old are fearful, jaded or dead. Do not ask me what to do. I am just as cowardly as you. And do not tell me it is enough to speak the truth; that it is bravery enough. Every mountain leveled to the ground, every forest burned, every man, woman, and child who lost their shanties to arsonist fires were defended to the heavens—with words.”
the years are full of words, yet many suffer; our pages full of tears, that change but few and we may wonder if a better future can ever come with so much left to do but change is local: it starts there within us, then slowly spreads to those who hold our words because they've come to trust that they'll have meaning beyond the type just made to guide the herds so find a way to learn, and do it humbly, hear tiny voices: mice, and birds, and shells -- for truth to live, it must first live within us; for lies to end, we have to stop, ourselves
“When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.”
there can be many different ways to come upon the path called truth, and even though we travel long the finding of it's no pursuit to set out on; for it finds us. the future gives no guarantees except that we will lose ourselves and find ourselves out here among the leaves
“You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.”
beyond our understanding lies immensities we quantify with words, as though say it right adds anything like truth or light to what is ignorance, at best. the future is an unknown place as deep as any ocean, and as strange as farthest realms of space. we humans are an oddity: we speak of what we do not know, describing all the things we'll never see
“Do you know when the wild goats give birth? Have you watched as deer are born in the wild? Do you know how many months they carry their young? Are you aware of the time of their delivery? They crouch down to give birth to their young and deliver their offspring. Their young grow up in the open fields, then leave home and never return.”
What do we know? There's much that goes that will not then return; For time moves one direction only, save within our minds. But we must reach -- The future is uncertain, nay, the present is, as well. We even disagree about the past -- But we still time flows, and we our fields must walk, our dangers face; life gives us little but some set of chances. So, today -- Remember, something of the future can be made by you today, if you would make it; and your frailty or mine does not mean you do not have all the power you need.
I love this aching emptiness, I need this wild ruin; A stage to highlight vanity And make my big debut in To get away from all the hype, The rancor, and invective -- And realize how small I am: An exigent Perspective
Some people see a scene like this, and say, "I could not live with all this solitude; This dreary sameness, each and every day. No variation -- snow and quietude." While others, see a city street, and muse, "Who wants the noise, pollution, and the stress? Give me some space and quiet to diffuse The chaos, so that I can decompress --" I'm not an urbanite, so I'm with those Who easily could be at home out here: I don't like crowds at all, and I suppose That what might give me hope, gives others fear -- But people differ, what seems bleak to one Night seem to someone else a lot of fun
the ancient lives in the footsteps echoing across the wild lands bare and bleak that we call our hearts