Moments
There are spaces between moments, ephemeral and unnoticed, the catalyst of every thought, every dream. Between sleep and waking I find you, the thought of you and my breath stills as the day awakens.
Finding Rest
-In the crepuscular moments, when silence stretches into absence, when fatigue and wakefulness wrestle on eyelids, when scant refractions of light unsettle shadows and cause them to shift creating apparitions and illusions of beings that never existed, that is where all the moments of the journey and its detours settle into the same monochrome. This is when the distinction between dreams and the dreamer fade and the evanescent glow of certainty ruptures completely. The pulsing driven by the metaphysical heart stills and scatters like the embers of fire. In the cooling breath of night when synapses lay barren and neurons […]
Leaves Turning
So many leaves have turned over, abandoning the cradle where they were first awakened by the soft caress of the morning breeze against the remaining dew- Earth’s nightly renewal, where they were taught the steps of the wind’s whispers and danced against light’s refraction; gently they’ve loosened their dependency, letting go their hold on verdant hues and have solemnly accepted the less vibrant tones of winter, inviting gravity to lead them. So many breaths exhausted to Earth’s persistent rotating, to the sun drenched rising of one more finite presence.
The Light We See
-The way a heart begins to pulse, with implosion, in the same way a star collapses into its emptiness, before becoming brilliant, the light that travels, the light we see…
When the wind changes
-The wind changes. It slows and becomes a breeze, carrying with it the sediment of breath. All those memories which have burdened myriad souls , the gathering of life’s moments in small clumps of what remains pressing down and into the cavity of the body, penetrating through bone and marrow,seeping through veins and arteries, burrowing through and past the hardened parts, and into the ventricles of lungs, then out into the world. This is how the wind changes, this is how the scent of morning and eve are affected, turned away from the monotony of the quotidian and begin to […]
Tokyo Oblivion
-Grids of luminescent blue hues spilling, dimly lighting buildings, as facades sweep by; a sea of subdued haze. In between, the brief dark, before and after, quick reflections… the face of melancholy and oblivion. The muted lights of Rainbow Bridge, the opaque dance of water, small boats beaded red… outlines of ancient vessels. Through the train’s windows, the station shivers, light fades, the Yamanote line jingle continues in the dark. The lights return in fractured stream. The jingle fades, the echo resonates, as a human shadow shivers. A crimson stream drips its way down the steps.
Myth
-I hold back tears, as I hold back time, clinging to moments as if they were real Unverifiable myths of my existence, of hope Whether lost or stolen, or simply undone What remains now are ruins Dreams once shone vibrantly now fade How sad it was to live afraid of losing what was being lost
Trails
-The plane cuts the clouds above him. He wonders if she’s on it. He’s had the thought as many times as he’s woken past the midpoint of night, in the still dark, felt the cold of her absence, and searched the empty side of the bed for her ghost. He’d wake and drive down to the coast, listen to the planes moaning above, and wonder which would be the one that would bring her back. He’d sit there for hours, as the sunlight spilled upon the waves, and they continued rolling in, crashing and cascading. Some days he’d fall asleep […]
Clarity beyond a burning roof
-As time dissipates and false idols fade, we are left with greater lucidity. We come to understand it is the stars and not the roof that had to burn away to reveal them that really matter. Along the trajectory of experience, of existence, many roofs will burn and just as many stars ignite. As these lights appear, they become our true North. They become the light by which life means; the light which spills frightening shadows and allowing the dying embers breath. It was a humble home. We had planned it as our starter, in what we hoped would be […]
A Handful of Sand
-The moment stands still. Or, I want it to. I take a picture, figuratively, of course, but when I open my eyes, the moment is gone. I cannot clearly distinguish the one from the next they blend into the other; the way the wind bends the dancing branches in each moment, the birds shifting their positions against the sky, shadows scattering and being drawn back together. I sketch it, a moment; the shade as it stands to one side, before it diminishes; the leaves on branches, as they stand against the sun; the birds, as they spread their wings against […]