Musings and Art

 Beating;     like the wings of so many creatures.And my mind is no different When once I craved, I crave no more - I crave know more.  Knowing time and exploring space I am always in this place.      I move, but am unmoving... more perceived in travels, nothing is separate and nothing is real          Except the light of life. A visit to light's how is a Sunday morning treat     But questions go unanswered for those who truly seek - not pacified by the bedtime story like scripture of men past, from an era  of as much relevance to our modern lives as a crumpled up receipt. Its existence more futile, being only waste. Light's scripture, eternally internal

‘Twas no stranger experience;           Than to meet myself:                                             A stranger To learn of others, without seeing them…     But instead, seeing what I projected into the space they occupied             ...Oh, what pain it is to see! Guilt, Grief, ambiguous Trauma - the realization of never having met another -                                            Just myself, a stranger The number of characters met which only embodied my reality •       Such loneliness  Now, having met myself - a stranger no more Guilt, Grief, Trauma - ever present at my door I find I meet you; again,       I see you, at last             all of the same pieces as me, struggling as I did     I wait for you to grow now         I pray for you to be a stranger no more

The way this pain feels; continues, continues to evolve   My sadness too deep Where once I sat, watching this pain s...l...o…w...l...y creep         It’s swallowed me now;             and I see that pain in you - as in me This insight drives me to be what I need so you don’t go without…         but; you push, kick, fight, reject all warmth and understanding therein In your effort to fight your monsters you have become a monster Our pains diverge  you are now swallowed by ugly-pain which has hidden you from yourself  I am now consumed by beautiful-pain, richer now for who I am becoming and presently am I want badly to take your torment, it is not mine

Pour from my fingertips like light pours from the sun Wash over me now, this feeling These feelings They are part of me, part of this They do not make all of me - they are the pieces that trigger my undoing; Some things must be undone - My response to these feelings, unhealthy; earned Earned in the neglect, abuse, destructive reality that was my youth But I must release these machinations of my youth, they ill serve my now So I embrace the pain of my youth, made into who I am by these antiquated self-services; ready and aware to be more I am more than the sum of these traumas I am more than the shame, guilt, fear my youth musters in me I am more I am enough I am love

Dancing on the sounds of silver salts,  Where shallow steps find narrowing faults. Creation; (The)destruction Nothing true but what is that is not and may, Never Be The sounds of voices dance in the shadows of open- thoughts Left like lullabies Sad; often; children’s tears tear at the stone walls of their Parents hearts. These cautious steps never meant to start, but who is it to mind our minds minding ours as well as theirs. Their tears sting like poison words. It, began          To Occur:                                         slowly. These tears were never pain, but pain more distant;   death in life was born anew You perhaps I never knew.  The pain all children go through. Silver salts glisten in the moonlight, while children close their eyes to greet their sorrows like exponentially awesome visions of past lives; sad. Sing this hearts sad song of time ticking past our open window minds.

I started this in 2010, life got really busy and I took a lot of unplanned breaks from drawing.  For me the drawing captures a lot of thoughts and aspects of my life.  I hope not to take to long of a break from drawing again