In the forest deep, Fly the fairies we dream of in afternoon sleep And the trees do sway To the working water’s tunes, Slowly sculpting
Tomorrow is a stranger on this far Wednesday night. A faint fickle dew drop rests as an oracle on fated lawns For neighbors to open their
Restriction, constriction, eviction of the mind when we give in to fiction, addiction, and race against time I looked at her as she took her
When I think back to my Everest trek, I rarely think of the hardships, but it is fascinating to consider all that I faced. Foot injures, nerve injuries, cramps, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, headache, exhaustion; none of it stopped me, nor does it stop most trekkers. At home, I would easily take the day off for any of these ailments, but in the mountains, a day off is not possible. The mountains mold you.
Rhythmic oscillations bombard us daily and herd us to remain in sync with them. Beats from the headphones that house themselves in our ears or the pulses we create
At the crossroads of September’s ghost and All Hallow’s Eve, Persimmons, pumpkins, and oranges alike Prepare the leves of the evergreen trees to give up
Have we really become more connected Or have we drifted further into ourselves? An ostentatious need to prove we are rich in goods and bads and
Grown, I am, in physicality But mentally molded, I am, by your philosophy I sat, child-like, eyes wide Absorbing every mannerism Noting, mentally How I