Evergreen Journeys
Evergreen Journeys
There is only one destination
Yet there are countless paths to reach it
Some are difficult
Some traversed with ease
Choose your roads wisely
And enjoy the view.
Yet there are countless paths to reach it
Some are difficult
Some traversed with ease
Choose your roads wisely
And enjoy the view.
Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed of night.
-James Joyce
-James Joyce
- panta rhei
- Posts: 1078
- Joined: September 3rd, 2004, 11:43 am
- Location: black forest, germany
- Contact:
two paths
Two paths in the wood
a dragonfly wandering
go I'll follow thee.
a dragonfly wandering
go I'll follow thee.
Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed of night.
-James Joyce
-James Joyce
- panta rhei
- Posts: 1078
- Joined: September 3rd, 2004, 11:43 am
- Location: black forest, germany
- Contact:
- panta rhei
- Posts: 1078
- Joined: September 3rd, 2004, 11:43 am
- Location: black forest, germany
- Contact:
to walk thru woods
with a pack of goods
and nary a care
now that is where
i'd like to be
not in this urban uptown
west side
neighboorhood
but i got flashbacks
from these pics
never cut off my eyelids
like daruma is rumored to have did
nope
i can see it still
no need to stay awake
i am the sleeper
buddha was awakened
beneath a tree
time for a nap
with black forest dreams
and summertime mossy greens
and deep wood meadows
with little flowers
and butterflies
what a summer that would be
but me
am off to give away old things to charity
peace and goodwill
my summertime thrill
a summer of penance
in urban pathways
with a pack of goods
and nary a care
now that is where
i'd like to be
not in this urban uptown
west side
neighboorhood
but i got flashbacks
from these pics
never cut off my eyelids
like daruma is rumored to have did
nope
i can see it still
no need to stay awake
i am the sleeper
buddha was awakened
beneath a tree
time for a nap
with black forest dreams
and summertime mossy greens
and deep wood meadows
with little flowers
and butterflies
what a summer that would be
but me
am off to give away old things to charity
peace and goodwill
my summertime thrill
a summer of penance
in urban pathways
[color=darkcyan]i'm on a survival mission
yo ho ho an a bottle of rum om[/color]
yo ho ho an a bottle of rum om[/color]
Out
Roads leading out, out and away.
Into what
Into the unknown, the unknowable into the darkness that creeps upon you when you are least looking for it, but mostly roads leading away, away past all you have known and all you think you know,
away from you friends from your family from even yourself till all that’s left is the silence within.
That’s when it starts, a few scribbled sentences, a line or two here and there trying to capture the beauty, the moment to freeze it as it flies by. An impossible task!
The words always come too late, fall to short the beauty fades before it is even fully formed and all your left with is the hollow sounding ring of the spent shell.
Ever aching,
ever longing,
ever looking to follow that road to its end but always winding up lost in the fog adrift, once again heading out.
Into what
Into the unknown, the unknowable into the darkness that creeps upon you when you are least looking for it, but mostly roads leading away, away past all you have known and all you think you know,
away from you friends from your family from even yourself till all that’s left is the silence within.
That’s when it starts, a few scribbled sentences, a line or two here and there trying to capture the beauty, the moment to freeze it as it flies by. An impossible task!
The words always come too late, fall to short the beauty fades before it is even fully formed and all your left with is the hollow sounding ring of the spent shell.
Ever aching,
ever longing,
ever looking to follow that road to its end but always winding up lost in the fog adrift, once again heading out.
Leave the letter that never begins to go find the latter that ever comes to end, written in smoke and blurred by mist and signed of solitude, sealed of night.
-James Joyce
-James Joyce
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest