Breadcrumbs
It is unfathomable, how rich-man-on-a-dime a dreamtime, I have been blessed to be given.
So many experiences, so many adventures, so many opportunities, so many travels, so many baubles.
So many friends, so many acquaintances, so many contacts, so many strangers, so many foes.
And peasant roots, and decent family, and simple and austere upbringing, to boot.
* * * *
One of the differences between poets and aphorists,
Is that one can often be left unsure the poet's meaning,
Whereas a say-it-as-it-is aphorist leaves little or no doubt.
* * * *
This ministry resides in the happenstance of the daily wander.
* * * *
Always editing details, minutia, particulars, specifics, niceties,
No one else will likely ever even begin to notice,
Much less give a hooey about.
* * * *
Synapse collapse, it’s real.
* * * *
Flying Peter-Pan solo in this life has been far more interesting,
Than any woman, any domesticated existence,
Could have ever allowed.
* * * *
It did not take a diploma to pen all this, just an autodidactic nature.
* * * *
This getting old thing is getting older than I want to be.
* * * *
If you want to believe your vain, greedy existence, has some meaning, has some purpose,
If you want to believe you have free will, or that the human paradigm is some divine orchestration,
Believe me, that I do not at all care, and will not waste energy to convince you otherwise.
Believe me, that I do not consider you anything more than absurdly delusional,
And will be only too happy, if we ever happen to spend time again,
To never examine anything remotely or vaguely serious.
The futility would only invoke the absurdity.
* * * *
Another one-man band weaving down a pathless path.
* * * *
An anonymous keyboard in a corner table in a coffee shop is stage enough for this player.
* * * *
That, which in the prime of youth, You thought You knew so well,
Is in the many moments since, so challenging to more than vaguely recall.
So many names and faces and places, so many experiences,
Such an array of lifetimes, in just this one.
* * * *
Found it again.
* * * *
If I did not say something well, feel free to clarify.
* * * *
The Stonecutter, chipping away at the mountain.
* * * *
The faces along the pathless, grow more and more vague, as time wanders its little march to oblivion.
* * * *
That was fun.
* * * *
Please do not slather me or these writings with idolatrous absurdity.
* * * *
If past and future were to suddenly evaporate, where – would You, could You, should You – be?
* * * *
I am the playful piper, the flaming bush,
The enduring ferryman, the ascetic recluse,
A wandering madman, journeying the universe.
I am all things, all places, all spaces.
There is nothing that I am not,
And nothing that I am.
I am the irony, I am the paradox,
Unframed, unnamed, unclaimed, untamed.
* * * *
And what labels, will the ivory tower scholars, give this testament, if any?
* * * *
These are thoughts from one who has come far, through thick and thin, to share them with You.