tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-538526895899685372024-02-19T05:42:04.479-08:00Wrote with LoveWrote with Love is a garden. it is every flower and blade of grass growing in that garden, every worm, man and ram living in that garden and it is the last words of every life that has ended in the shade of its trees. It is the print left by the hand of countless visitorsh.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-67481615659355019262010-01-23T17:15:00.000-08:002010-01-23T17:30:54.287-08:00Wishfull praying<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIeWwMlv9t4Ofa3TA8WUSwb1bOaIPRBmmIjpE-GOhPxZQ808aKQFXFpCOfehYcsg1DvTX0qQYX-SGndZYgV7k04UAwNqmUWukjJ2Yah2Hnn42KZSk4nmD-SPEqXfO1YMSgRsio_nnCcw/s1600-h/hum+sab+ek+hai+blog+photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIeWwMlv9t4Ofa3TA8WUSwb1bOaIPRBmmIjpE-GOhPxZQ808aKQFXFpCOfehYcsg1DvTX0qQYX-SGndZYgV7k04UAwNqmUWukjJ2Yah2Hnn42KZSk4nmD-SPEqXfO1YMSgRsio_nnCcw/s320/hum+sab+ek+hai+blog+photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430112714189231298" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Lord I pray you will see fit<br />to bless us with forgetfulness,<br />An absent and vacated mind,<br />unbiased and walking only toward the setting sun.<br /><br />A mind that knows no different<br />than to greet every passing stranger,<br />of every passing colour,<br />with love, encouragement and curiosity.<br /><br />Be they shade of blue or green,<br />orange, magenta, yellow or grey.<br />They walk toward the same setting sun &<br />their footprints left on the desert floor of the endless Thar,<br />show no memory of their colour or beliefs.<br /><br />Lord I pray you will see fit<br />to bless us with forgetfulness<br />And as we gather new thought, new memory,<br />let it not be sliding inward toward ourselves.<br />Instead, let our thoughts lie on those whose paths we have crossed,<br />and let our feet be willing to lose ground if another should need help.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-84703370658317632692009-12-20T13:47:00.000-08:002009-12-20T14:09:17.925-08:00On Regret<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5URmuJ6sm1kmwYo557jo25mirPLF409H91-q63b4ncPkcwq2E-dDBzHXDEOfQ34BT1ZfBRuWrwC_Mig4UdTid73ifwR2LVF-oanVnL9qyJN9IkzeQq0H61w-n5lgWszf_5bW12Ruxhg/s1600-h/birthday4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5URmuJ6sm1kmwYo557jo25mirPLF409H91-q63b4ncPkcwq2E-dDBzHXDEOfQ34BT1ZfBRuWrwC_Mig4UdTid73ifwR2LVF-oanVnL9qyJN9IkzeQq0H61w-n5lgWszf_5bW12Ruxhg/s320/birthday4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417443863163951762" border="0" /></a><br />How much of our present, do we spend analyzing the past.<br />The past is good for one thing, to get us to where we are and who we are today.<br />If we have a problem with where and who we are today, still no amount of reconsideration of the choices we made will change that, we are simply faced with the new choice in front of us. To change what we do not like or to let it continue.<br />Regret is a luxury that wise men are poor in. For they have realized it's uselessness, it's arrogantly obvious un-productiveness. And they have shed it from their shoulders like fake leather jacket.<br />Regret breeds sorrow and sorrow is weight that will drown best of swimmers.<br />Live in the now, and be nothing but grateful for your past, for it could not have happened any other way. It is what it is and because of it you are who you are and you have the freedom to be whoever the fuck you want to be.<br />It all comes down to choice.<br />Choose.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-26483454219854574792009-10-24T08:16:00.000-07:002009-10-24T08:55:14.953-07:00Day break<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUrp6i9jXwzY-g6GMhXITCfb0vOxg963x07QeuGRcLRNxUQ2e3L-LRD6lGBKN9Vu_wFKHkwrXVgidYKDSNvt42Of6PBvsWbGDVyQwnU5-lO2eqkhP66nUklBdBVELKVb8MT9UbUK4TUA/s1600-h/DSC03463.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiUrp6i9jXwzY-g6GMhXITCfb0vOxg963x07QeuGRcLRNxUQ2e3L-LRD6lGBKN9Vu_wFKHkwrXVgidYKDSNvt42Of6PBvsWbGDVyQwnU5-lO2eqkhP66nUklBdBVELKVb8MT9UbUK4TUA/s320/DSC03463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396194279488476482" border="0" /></a><br />You know that feeling?<br />You know when you wake up, not by the first rays of the sun, not by the chirping of an alarm, but just by the solid heat. The heat of the midday sun finally filling the enclosed and before now, protected space of your room. You open your eyes, either before or after, throwing off your covers, and realize that the day is as good as wasted. You predict many hours before your present enough in the present to leave your "home" and ponder if it is worth the effort to ever leave at all.<br /><br />And now think of that moment,<br />I don't know where you will have to look to find it. And I hope with all the hope i have to muster that you have experienced it.<br />That moment, when you look out to the horizon, you see the faintest pink, so pink you cannot separate it from the deep blue on the other edge of the sky. The crisp air running up your nostrils, carrying the cool morning mist into your lungs.<br />You think about the day ahead of you and count the hours.<br />The imagine all the things your could fill them with.<br />And then you start. You starting filling them.<br /><br />You.<br />When I met you.<br />I remember seeing in your eyes.<br />The reflection of that day break.<br />And today, when i looked into your eyes.<br />It's like that day never broke. Like that sun never rose.<br />Ever since I met you, you have been filling the hours with passion and energy that can only come in the presence of such a sun rise.<br />Your life, lived with the hope of one who has seen that pink sky.<br />And has understood the potential of the unknown.<br />You have beautiful eyes.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-39556676421879549722009-10-17T03:09:00.001-07:002009-10-17T03:16:34.303-07:00Bird of a feather<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7B95wJ4TCGMi7QMSITr9ZtWSBssRSMmu8n06nl0tiQtj2Czihgs5-mKqN4v803Q1N4c6F0FuAdo_-LR_wxd6t_2eUJAi-5bdRiy60qXuc-TyJrUQtIK80yH_aq3VPnBYF5Bt-RqnUt4/s1600-h/feather.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7B95wJ4TCGMi7QMSITr9ZtWSBssRSMmu8n06nl0tiQtj2Czihgs5-mKqN4v803Q1N4c6F0FuAdo_-LR_wxd6t_2eUJAi-5bdRiy60qXuc-TyJrUQtIK80yH_aq3VPnBYF5Bt-RqnUt4/s320/feather.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393510190920281490" border="0" /></a><br /><span id="profile_status"><span id="status_text">eighteen feathers of a different shade<br />spread across two wings in order they were laid<br />erupting from the leaves, in the open to be seen<br />leaving the branches, where they had always been.</span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-47996991982866040452009-10-14T20:20:00.001-07:002009-10-14T20:27:17.693-07:00they were more in love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghNj2X3whDOtGXd3GTkStdGHYot8dFeQ0okh6_jOM_QZSYGeCxuHiz5TbhBs7596yFzHNsi4yrmaYa4UPiwIEa4gcW7OJ1Zu65cX8447JoxmGdEx3Z4tPGyvBIJzPLChUqeUW-3HxI5jY/s1600-h/DSC03824.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghNj2X3whDOtGXd3GTkStdGHYot8dFeQ0okh6_jOM_QZSYGeCxuHiz5TbhBs7596yFzHNsi4yrmaYa4UPiwIEa4gcW7OJ1Zu65cX8447JoxmGdEx3Z4tPGyvBIJzPLChUqeUW-3HxI5jY/s320/DSC03824.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392662894360840226" border="0" /></a><br />They were more in love than anyone realized.<br />Luckily for them their love did not require the realization of anyone.<br />The had to think in a particularly round about way to feel how they felt.<br />But boy oh boy did they feel it.<br />A love complimentary to life and living. Whatever formed they may take on.<br />Beyond the acceptance of most.<br />Belittled by many.<br />to be judged by none.<br />Not even them selves.<br />love will never be lost.<br />for life cannot be lived in it's absence.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-76804201362247226482009-10-12T13:30:00.000-07:002009-10-12T13:45:28.771-07:00Is it dark in here or are you just running around with your eyes closed?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdgGNfywISgEUtiB6kaXv3dRlkdzssKSmBsBWNnDckRNaAdRVeHKHANvV8pPoCP-418qOoNN6WrUI1_eZDjtnHl9mgObtsNjllq7LQZPANEEFMonTdJsxaj7IU3jhq5dk97AIPCRzC94/s1600-h/DSC03968.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdgGNfywISgEUtiB6kaXv3dRlkdzssKSmBsBWNnDckRNaAdRVeHKHANvV8pPoCP-418qOoNN6WrUI1_eZDjtnHl9mgObtsNjllq7LQZPANEEFMonTdJsxaj7IU3jhq5dk97AIPCRzC94/s400/DSC03968.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391814905483014514" border="0" /></a><br />And now the power has gone out and we can't find any of the exits and were wandering around in the dark in this room called love.<br />So what do we do?<br />What now?<br />The more we understood the less we could see till the morning we woke up to a setting sun, your side of the bed was still warm while mine had never heated up. Every now and again... and again we down the drink and up the bubbles and we think we can see again, but our sight fades into realization that what we are seeing is a figment of their imagination and has nothing to do with us.<br />To empty faces dancing their dance and waiting for us to fill them but we wont. We can't. We know better... or so we think... but if we can't trust what we think than what whiteness does our trust in them come from?<br />By now we have stopped searching for exits and have found only each-other and after several excellent decisions we can see like we own the sun and have no need to run... and no need of clothes for that matter.<br />And their searching to tell us how we've done it wrong but they can't see us in dark. And we keep our heads low so as not to be heard, and two become one and create a small bird.<br />And the bird will grow down into it's nest until it realizes it has been hanging onto a metaphor. A metaphorical question before a hypothetical answer to the why and reason that season after season we've yet to hit a spring and are still hanging onto what's been.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-50552832067978204802009-08-22T22:33:00.000-07:002009-08-23T20:50:25.500-07:00Here we all sit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9IXA1SKEWb-4otWpwk0qevoNreJkSGDCJLFLhe3CONDWtvyUCp-3RyH0Zi4Ci86hLFm9Vk3mlyKQCHPlu6NHcsEoNKfnDh95N1Fl31AmXslj0BGTypSck95CGe1ba3G9ebByTwDH-k8/s1600-h/blog+photo+eye.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373372262236783874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9IXA1SKEWb-4otWpwk0qevoNreJkSGDCJLFLhe3CONDWtvyUCp-3RyH0Zi4Ci86hLFm9Vk3mlyKQCHPlu6NHcsEoNKfnDh95N1Fl31AmXslj0BGTypSck95CGe1ba3G9ebByTwDH-k8/s320/blog+photo+eye.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>here we all sit,<br />in lumpy cinema seats that don't recline,<br />and shared armrests still sticky with soda,<br />on the edge of our seat with boredom,<br />considering walking out of this movie,<br />for which we have paid far to much to watch.<br />Yet we choose to stay,<br />"what if it gets better?"<br />"maybe they will do something unexpected?"<br />But they won't.<br />We are watching the movie of our own life,<br />staring straight into the camera's lens,<br />lost in our own reflection.</div><div>As if we are watching the earth's feebles attempts</div><div>to eclipsing the moon </div><div>from the sun's point of view</div>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-88016193222780944902009-08-11T04:55:00.000-07:002009-08-11T05:05:18.771-07:00What is it?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic22KJ1-4eCfqhZckdRXxxkHzE_VNXFHgzt5KdigrNL4TPlz1SVtyOfmpRVDY-BfQoAMBIYTn8ymypvLXSYOaNbfF19vPFRhhK3FM95GE5I6ibimTw9B34iWwsWi-t45rNVkg46ri3gZ8/s1600-h/Blog+what.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368675567041782418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic22KJ1-4eCfqhZckdRXxxkHzE_VNXFHgzt5KdigrNL4TPlz1SVtyOfmpRVDY-BfQoAMBIYTn8ymypvLXSYOaNbfF19vPFRhhK3FM95GE5I6ibimTw9B34iWwsWi-t45rNVkg46ri3gZ8/s320/Blog+what.jpg" border="0" /></a> Where are we searching?<br />what are we seeking?<br />There's a hole in my whole<br />Thus my wholeness is leaking<br /><br /><br /><br />Thou often when you dig<br />Far down in the ground<br />Most times you will find<br />What your seeking can't be found.<br /><br />Some say it's in your head<br />Some say it's in your heart<br />Some find it in the end<br />Some have it from the start<br /><br />Some open every jar<br />to see if they can smell it<br />Some talk till they are breathless<br />To see if they can tell it.<br /><br />Some sit beneath a tree<br />And wait for it to come<br />Some seek it on a different plane<br />by making themselves numb.<br /><br />Some open every cactus<br />And drink its spilling juice<br />Some check every egg<br />Laid by the golden goose.<br /><br />Some will ask the shadowless<br />To answer all their maybes.<br />Some say that they have found it<br />in the innocence of babies.<br /><br />Some have given up their search<br />dismounted from their lookout lurch<br />Are simply content with breathing and being<br />and seeing only what they are already seeing.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-72493955838664162812009-08-11T04:41:00.001-07:002009-08-11T05:08:15.977-07:00We are not in love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVirS9hWzkkjkH43xMpRC2vkyG6wH-xDb8l4yGNXfPtUkXB4VU26WmeH9nZRn6N11CIcF0ISI3ZEOOSorgAtJvczQsTrhS4F6u4f8YRjLj22UC96Y2IxYGtjXkcIvPYsXmOjTS4xYxTGE/s1600-h/Bloglove.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368672832024829842" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVirS9hWzkkjkH43xMpRC2vkyG6wH-xDb8l4yGNXfPtUkXB4VU26WmeH9nZRn6N11CIcF0ISI3ZEOOSorgAtJvczQsTrhS4F6u4f8YRjLj22UC96Y2IxYGtjXkcIvPYsXmOjTS4xYxTGE/s320/Bloglove.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>We are not in Love,<br />You and I<br />We have only begun our endless journey<br />in search of love.<br />Togeather we will paddle up many rivers<br />hike over countless mountains,<br />fight off discovered and nameless beasts,<br />all in search of our hamlet of love<br />where we can live as one with all that is love<br />until death bring us closer.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-10864627092645521292009-08-11T04:30:00.000-07:002009-10-26T08:19:36.786-07:00Unable to drown<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBy1y4uXqQBbYuS5lMzkJs9dgflBz-zlWrs4XouZCQ_A28WwI7iawqHrfVTu-1qhagvt5uC_7KAWcy3DS4ySjWYSNIJUz9P_YQmYAj8RmTJ9ar0QRuD3fYa6rKnqkhqBVzXY6Gft9fbBQ/s1600-h/Blog+drink.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368669539768431938" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px; height: 180px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBy1y4uXqQBbYuS5lMzkJs9dgflBz-zlWrs4XouZCQ_A28WwI7iawqHrfVTu-1qhagvt5uC_7KAWcy3DS4ySjWYSNIJUz9P_YQmYAj8RmTJ9ar0QRuD3fYa6rKnqkhqBVzXY6Gft9fbBQ/s320/Blog+drink.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div>The alcohol is a weight<br />Pulling me under<br />Drowning my sorrows<br />But my sorrows can swim under water<br />And now I have wet shoes<br />And another thing I cannot lose<br />Another anchor ripped from the real<br />One more reason to break the seal</div>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-20928586845064900582009-07-10T03:23:00.000-07:002009-07-10T03:40:46.621-07:00something monsterous<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDf7BgcOgcAdzaoSblNS-vdasTGyOK7s_XK9PIwSxLfBtjJuSAqEFHjlBzrP_XF_icrYaMXenhCvo6bmLNj0Sj6EEYwtI99xDD5u19cMmjZDyaqnRJxlOFz2opSKuPubMcTjkIKWAKF4/s1600-h/DSC03010.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDf7BgcOgcAdzaoSblNS-vdasTGyOK7s_XK9PIwSxLfBtjJuSAqEFHjlBzrP_XF_icrYaMXenhCvo6bmLNj0Sj6EEYwtI99xDD5u19cMmjZDyaqnRJxlOFz2opSKuPubMcTjkIKWAKF4/s320/DSC03010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356779394364159106" border="0" /></a><br />Don't be fooled by what they tell you,<br />and don't hold it against them for telling you.<br />They don't know any better.<br /><br />Not all monsters are bad.<br />Not all monsters are scary.<br />And we certainly do not all live under your beds.<br />The most terrible hiding place.<br />Hence why they are always found.<br /><br />Some of us hold particularly important roles<br />in keeping the order of things.<br />For example; The human dislike for rodents is<br />causing the worldwide rodent population to diminish.<br />Which results in an increase in consumable wastes<br />thrown out by you humans.<br />There is an elect team of monsters trained<br />(in their younger years) in dismantling mouse traps.<br />We don't always make it on time, but we do our best.<br />The monster you affectionatly named "Fairy",<br />and plays the sweet little helper in all your tales,<br />are not what they seem.<br />The Fairies are known for their ferociousness,<br />their agility and speed and the fact that they can fly<br />makes them the most lethal assasins.<br />And for your own well being, let me tell you<br />that the only protection against fairies<br />is a circle of smooth river pebbles.<br /><br />My type all ahve soft mirror for skin,<br />making us extremely hard to find.<br />The elders of the monster<br />world try to promote our bad reputation,<br />they say "it gives us some peace and quiet!"<br />Not like how it used to be.<br />( Thou it is incredibly difficult to keep<br />a full grown dragon hidden.)<br /><br />We are dying out.<br />It is unexplainably hard to keep hidden in your concrete world.<br />We are nature lovers,<br />it is where we have moved since the God's made this place.<br />We even met the first man!<br />But by the time he got to naming us he was so lost in boredom<br />that he simply said " There rest of them can all be monsters."<br /><br />The majority of us have retreated to the ocean.<br />It's opener there,<br />away from the cities glare.<br />So let this be a friendly request<br />to share this world with us.<br />And not kill ever "bug"<br />that you haven't come to recognise.<br /><br />Besides, when it comes down to it,<br />if there ever were a war,<br />we would most certainly win.<br /><br />∂ø¥†´h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-34753320878238289142009-06-25T02:36:00.000-07:002009-06-25T02:39:07.744-07:00Do you think I know what I am doing!?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf5dLiecEFYdO5oWoDYRn4KVsgUZxdvdVxRn5Ea_rbYwSkkaCkD212r43VTDchsU4wzcAFE_5ctvovmsWsFFBpUzawNYZkqdn-TJc3j_f_jkVfcIlolGlxnlv0wTvw-w_Y6EHwHRC1P0E/s1600-h/IMG_2517.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351197339869740050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 245px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 252px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf5dLiecEFYdO5oWoDYRn4KVsgUZxdvdVxRn5Ea_rbYwSkkaCkD212r43VTDchsU4wzcAFE_5ctvovmsWsFFBpUzawNYZkqdn-TJc3j_f_jkVfcIlolGlxnlv0wTvw-w_Y6EHwHRC1P0E/s320/IMG_2517.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">do you think i know what i am doing!?<br />ha!<br />Does a falling leaf know where the wind will let it rest?<br />Does a blank canvas know what will be created of it?<br />i have read only as far as the story has been written.</div>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-22102244446807986962009-06-22T01:53:00.000-07:002009-06-22T01:56:38.409-07:00The Stale Story of Tears<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYDUwKm1mzHsMYaxvMNW7zERfL9wCJawN65ElR_UklK83icdZ1jJJU1AGD2-NB7n0ju9-5aVKkWLJh-UL-j4jabXUpLslgIuDlrxNs9eFDtvahm9HIjptO5klIDkaPUyYUR0vN3xqBpQ/s1600-h/DSC02872.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350073007558196898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYDUwKm1mzHsMYaxvMNW7zERfL9wCJawN65ElR_UklK83icdZ1jJJU1AGD2-NB7n0ju9-5aVKkWLJh-UL-j4jabXUpLslgIuDlrxNs9eFDtvahm9HIjptO5klIDkaPUyYUR0vN3xqBpQ/s320/DSC02872.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>who can explain to me the mystery of tears.<br />the silent ejaculation of the eye.<br />who can be a scribe for the tears story.<br />who brought them here.<br />ANd who is going to take them home.<br /><br />who on this earth truly understands the tear.<br />understands the physical reaction to an emotional force.<br />No matter the man you cut,<br />He will always bleed.<br />But he will not always cry.<br /><br />there is one that has a theory.<br />his truth is his own and he calls no one else to follow the path he walks.<br /><br />He wonders if we knew of heaven. if we didn't rely on faith but truly new. if we would still cry when the people we loved died. How dare we be so selfish to cry at our own loss. they were never ours to lose in the first place.<br /><br />And of those tears that tell a tale of joy, of laughter, of love. if it weren't for those tears this man would never have found his theory.<br /><br />Perhaps tears are the symbol of being overwhelmed. Filled with so much joy that laughter does not suffice, and tears are the only way to release the happiness that will inevitably escape.<br /><br />Perhaps its not in our design, our make, to understand grief, to know loss and death. Perhaps we were never meant to know. And perhaps that is why tears are born from grief. tears are born from loss.<br /><br />there are those, who it seems are not effected by the same sadness that keep the cheeks of the world wet. Perhaps we can numb ourselves. Perhaps we can be conditioned to not see death as loss. to not connect to the saddness that surrounds.<br /><br />But we are all connected. Somehow. And to numb oneself to that connection could be detrimental to ones being.<br /><br />Have faith. know that none is lost. And marinate in the peace of the unknown </div>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-28037264268254289762009-06-10T00:29:00.001-07:002009-06-10T00:32:57.582-07:00Go lick a rock<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboIFjUdNavcGncm_jF7HwkijdqZtSDy3LjLhYoZ7LbvFBnA9GVMICDjZVlc8dbpj5c75YWA7NoIw4xvp3MSQ-y38QI66l6AfYXfSjjhJlMnHeT5N9ejGMZwG4PdzTL3V-xiVx_oBj2Zs/s1600-h/Go+lick+a+rock.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgboIFjUdNavcGncm_jF7HwkijdqZtSDy3LjLhYoZ7LbvFBnA9GVMICDjZVlc8dbpj5c75YWA7NoIw4xvp3MSQ-y38QI66l6AfYXfSjjhJlMnHeT5N9ejGMZwG4PdzTL3V-xiVx_oBj2Zs/s320/Go+lick+a+rock.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345597840548094642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Go lick a rock<br />If you want to know<br />where we came from<br /><br />Plant a plastic tree<br />if you are trying to see<br />where it is that we are going<br /><br />Strike the match<br />of your usable years<br />and plant it in your footprint<br /><br />Look right, left and right again<br />before running back<br />to the ghost of your former shadow<br /><br />Let your beard grow<br />Kiss a boy you don’t know<br />And fondly remember tomorrow<br /><br />Run at the waves in confidence<br />A dash back from the cold water,<br />undress your soul<br /><br />Feel the sand between your teeth<br />leap into the infinite abyss<br />breathe in.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-70228842043667694102009-06-10T00:26:00.000-07:002009-06-10T00:29:10.836-07:00Be the last piece of the endless puzzle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKKnpGoow3hUnhMCyfsWERPgLuaBErXVLkbHT6SUZIn1TflEymDzZArJICWxgoW3Zcuv5JJ-6rIRBi56MGkDrBllyq4jkpzbOH7rNcyucQnmWswaFwgib3RLS9A7bXvzDg8MSDJCY00gg/s1600-h/Be+the+last+piece+of+the+endless+puzzle.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKKnpGoow3hUnhMCyfsWERPgLuaBErXVLkbHT6SUZIn1TflEymDzZArJICWxgoW3Zcuv5JJ-6rIRBi56MGkDrBllyq4jkpzbOH7rNcyucQnmWswaFwgib3RLS9A7bXvzDg8MSDJCY00gg/s320/Be+the+last+piece+of+the+endless+puzzle.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345597353464926594" /></a><br />Sliding down the slippery slope of glue<br />picking up the broken pieces<br />of what is new and what is true<br /><br />Falling towards the deep blue sky<br />reaching for something to hold onto<br />fruitless, yet you continue to try.<br /><br />Until you reach the rest of humanity<br />Stuck on the inside of the ball<br />Be the last piece of the puzzle. Darkness.<br /><br />Yet purposeful.<br />The peoples pride soars to a new sky.<br />"Look what we have created!"<br /><br />A God so big<br />The only person left to worship him<br />Is himself. Cycle after vicious cycle.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-51592109694223926312009-06-10T00:25:00.001-07:002009-06-10T00:26:44.944-07:00Explode<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZeeC37JUOauSoGklcIEcUV77qKqhApl8N7e6793hef3bDy9ipZQFUlrah-Mz1T1vIBdiTPteYrbCfbFY754KXeR75h0hbfwX_WQiKymWXG8kLoFM5ai70kpi81nhYbu-MQmhw4ojlKs/s1600-h/Explode.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZeeC37JUOauSoGklcIEcUV77qKqhApl8N7e6793hef3bDy9ipZQFUlrah-Mz1T1vIBdiTPteYrbCfbFY754KXeR75h0hbfwX_WQiKymWXG8kLoFM5ai70kpi81nhYbu-MQmhw4ojlKs/s320/Explode.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345596757454888482" /></a><br />Open up your eyes<br />let go of your security<br />fall into the sky<br />and explode into the sunh.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-61539675705800273852009-06-10T00:19:00.000-07:002009-06-10T00:25:03.482-07:00Innocently dishonest knowledge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0EV0fJ9CLzXmNFd3t097fASDS_L_I6gqbZu-zSpH2QCh7DwUg5fj5j_8grLczpBoi9wPIJ2gmAV-_8OeYJKPOdNsPWZjZUF7f-_9mX4PJYYhtOoGs5mgCxFjjXXpsQPeo_1A4_TdmlvA/s1600-h/DSC01647.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0EV0fJ9CLzXmNFd3t097fASDS_L_I6gqbZu-zSpH2QCh7DwUg5fj5j_8grLczpBoi9wPIJ2gmAV-_8OeYJKPOdNsPWZjZUF7f-_9mX4PJYYhtOoGs5mgCxFjjXXpsQPeo_1A4_TdmlvA/s320/DSC01647.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345596169539669842" /></a><br /><br />How can we trust what we know<br />When everything we know<br />Depends so heavily on what we know<br />Interpreting knowledge<br />with interpreted knowledge.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-19830027326697971522009-06-10T00:16:00.000-07:002009-06-10T00:32:25.463-07:00Find your own balance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXA6A_40GLPlDRu_H0uOL27qgLvB6h_S_q7ctr-e93gBEOeaM5DFxF7-w-F_ayjS09haaLtNUhoAy6Jh5zohrGAwYDN1zueMLZUEiMk7dfP5cEWLgj0lbFY96YgqpAgwCJb30sKesdctc/s1600-h/Find+your+own+balance.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXA6A_40GLPlDRu_H0uOL27qgLvB6h_S_q7ctr-e93gBEOeaM5DFxF7-w-F_ayjS09haaLtNUhoAy6Jh5zohrGAwYDN1zueMLZUEiMk7dfP5cEWLgj0lbFY96YgqpAgwCJb30sKesdctc/s320/Find+your+own+balance.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345594691920522034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Feasting is good<br />and fasting is good<br />find your own balance<br />spoke the passing pilgrim<br /><br />A man who eats too little<br />or eats too much<br />will never attain equanimity<br />recited the meditating monk<br /><br />look at the food<br />on which you ponder<br />So susceptible, so emotional<br />there is no reality but God.<br /><br />Drop the fork with which<br />You intend to devour the ocean<br />Yes, let the waves engulf you<br />and drag you to her heart.<br /><br />Be patient<br />perhaps you will become a pearl<br />otherwise he will spew you from his mouth<br />like lukewarm water.<br /><br />Drowning in life<br />on the beach of eternity<br />feasting on memories and premonitions<br />you die.<br /><br />And all that you know<br />dies with you<br />Only to open your eyes<br />half way down the rabbit hole<br /><br />And landing in the land of the remorseless<br />you breathe<br />you stand<br />You fly.<br /><br />Beyond the treachery of reason<br />Into the river of the unknown<br />following our forefathers, screaming warnings<br />you are awake<br /><br />yet you sleep in your awakeness<br />speaking with all confidence<br />Yet you know not the language.<br />wake up.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-76545217980415232062009-06-10T00:10:00.001-07:002009-06-10T00:16:33.344-07:00On Freedom.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZPvC6lbRKNfPdMUZiAam8Pev4PvYlWhH46Oen0UXHf5FFSZ1y2blSZriLF9nc2TO0wCPBEZSnm0iTcGSrxJvem-1ci-mid-p9X7_DkdNzyGgucgjz28bSkNxN39Zvacz819stdGrxMA/s1600-h/On+Freedom.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZPvC6lbRKNfPdMUZiAam8Pev4PvYlWhH46Oen0UXHf5FFSZ1y2blSZriLF9nc2TO0wCPBEZSnm0iTcGSrxJvem-1ci-mid-p9X7_DkdNzyGgucgjz28bSkNxN39Zvacz819stdGrxMA/s320/On+Freedom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345593018352608770" /></a><br />Freedom is an idea<br />A state of mind.<br />So powerful,<br />It can become a way of life.<br /><br />Freedom,<br />Or the pursuit of that freedom,<br />Is a reaction<br />To a threatening action.<br /><br />Society and it's order enforcers<br />Have only themselves to blame<br />for the likes of <br />V and predecessor Guy Fawkes<br /><br />Men,<br />Who sacrificed their identities,<br />to assume the symbol of a nations heart and hope<br />a symbol of freedom.<br /><br />In everyone of us<br />behind our complacency<br />Hidden in the shadow of our greed and self righteousness<br />Is a desire for freedom<br /><br />Yet we continue to look for that freedom<br />Within our prison walls<br />Some when have found it by looking further<br />Most have found it by looking closer<br /><br />Until you accept<br />That it is your thumb<br />Under which you are trapped<br />You will not get out from its shadow<br /><br />Free yourself from your beliefs<br />And the myths of what you need<br />Security is needed only by those who are threatened<br />Recognize your power to choose your threats<br /><br />Free yourself from the uncontrollable<br />and that which you will never know<br />discard their limitations<br />free yourself of death<br /><br />only then<br />Will you be able the free yourself from the pursuit of freedom<br />and only then<br />Will you truly be free.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-34156753877316862742009-06-10T00:08:00.001-07:002009-06-10T00:10:22.522-07:00Freedom through renunciation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9h8_DzKuYXbfeD8Ygec_0ThIz91GhY8sI6upWjQm4hWuB9VjB4mCdwVkpiFD0dNr7oqKC9PVmgUvir6Yk5kwNeFyoRDyQu-MYUQwavuDy86XB3XORUd0dVSXCzd0FN1FbLVQjZ32gKY/s1600-h/Freedom+through+renuciation.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9h8_DzKuYXbfeD8Ygec_0ThIz91GhY8sI6upWjQm4hWuB9VjB4mCdwVkpiFD0dNr7oqKC9PVmgUvir6Yk5kwNeFyoRDyQu-MYUQwavuDy86XB3XORUd0dVSXCzd0FN1FbLVQjZ32gKY/s320/Freedom+through+renuciation.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345592604296708290" /></a><br />Why must we have a "spot", a mark on the ground that we are "away" from?<br />This globe is yours, our ancestors and ourselves have left many marks, do not be fooled by them.<br />For those of you who, for lack of a more appropriate title, are fellow homeless bohemians, I ask you to raise your glass, your cup or your fist and revel in the life you have chosen.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-63804887592748374372009-06-10T00:06:00.000-07:002009-06-10T00:08:22.900-07:00People don't know<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCOLSReAZkBbvoTTZkxhAtkM8NnKfQE9ptV4bM_5JSqD16Kay2qAvfln0KmRDVs-IUyZftL5WMZUX_TuStOt9ZAvlpFU301QS9kORR4URX6_v4aRlCfasViO4AX0uwqrPz_Amz6mZvk4/s1600-h/People+dont+know.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCOLSReAZkBbvoTTZkxhAtkM8NnKfQE9ptV4bM_5JSqD16Kay2qAvfln0KmRDVs-IUyZftL5WMZUX_TuStOt9ZAvlpFU301QS9kORR4URX6_v4aRlCfasViO4AX0uwqrPz_Amz6mZvk4/s320/People+dont+know.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345592110197624610" /></a><br />You wouldn't see in the people I know,<br />the things I see in them.<br />And they'd never see, through my eyes, <br />the things I see in you.<br />My hope is,<br />that sometime after you meet,<br />I am deaf <br />to the silent conversation between you.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-32378015668793680482009-06-10T00:05:00.001-07:002009-06-10T00:06:53.228-07:00A sense of belonging<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieagbcvGHhdzqKz2bogQ3TOS1o4syqxdoNlLEtyWL84JBOBgDfT2U6D2AGGZ3Lb4llEU_pdrQ2WwWy3qhyeppYHSjzES7BBfrsLIKBo5OehgMnkcmz7s5WeN5imyhhIuPcBliaLszfjBs/s1600-h/A+sense+of+belonging.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieagbcvGHhdzqKz2bogQ3TOS1o4syqxdoNlLEtyWL84JBOBgDfT2U6D2AGGZ3Lb4llEU_pdrQ2WwWy3qhyeppYHSjzES7BBfrsLIKBo5OehgMnkcmz7s5WeN5imyhhIuPcBliaLszfjBs/s320/A+sense+of+belonging.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345591640571240066" /></a><br />You say the summers are too hot.<br />and the Winters too cold.<br />You say the rain is too wet,<br />and the sand far too dry.<br />I'm left wondering,<br />if you belong here at all?h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-78646806056797890552009-06-09T23:58:00.000-07:002009-06-10T00:04:44.299-07:00Journey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4bnuZCtxWeom38LGv_BAPRLxRYuDDf4iEKhszFtr83LG5CttRJZctJGBF-crHT7PSZVdz4ETAzWh8GxGhsfnEPpEOa1vtGWgk6gshssha90FpYi7pwZvj_Y4L_KDaM_hemGe0GY1GA4/s1600-h/Journey.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4bnuZCtxWeom38LGv_BAPRLxRYuDDf4iEKhszFtr83LG5CttRJZctJGBF-crHT7PSZVdz4ETAzWh8GxGhsfnEPpEOa1vtGWgk6gshssha90FpYi7pwZvj_Y4L_KDaM_hemGe0GY1GA4/s320/Journey.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345590141775566082" /></a><br /><br />How often it is,<br />that the questioner,<br />drawn away from home in search of her answer,<br />finds it was present all along.<br /><br />Thou the point should be made,<br />that without the journey,<br />the answer would remain undiscovered<br />And the question would lead to destruction.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-82221043034266890692009-06-09T23:54:00.001-07:002009-06-09T23:58:44.303-07:00Walk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuujRI1AkgrOx2ltQfFk0j_Ssz-f642yjVbeWoNUTCYRfVvDaDZX7zTQyS-TieEt2do6f3zZXAaeEiULwcdXwwiIagPbRYxlzN05uF9WDF8FvFARk089IlsDn1jySf6AkbIDaAHQjQII/s1600-h/Walk.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuujRI1AkgrOx2ltQfFk0j_Ssz-f642yjVbeWoNUTCYRfVvDaDZX7zTQyS-TieEt2do6f3zZXAaeEiULwcdXwwiIagPbRYxlzN05uF9WDF8FvFARk089IlsDn1jySf6AkbIDaAHQjQII/s320/Walk.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345589669125975634" /></a><br />Is there such a thing as a wasted match?<br />Is an egg not created to one day hatch?<br />Do not be disheartened if you do not use,<br />the full length of your life's fuse.<br /><br />That’s not to say,<br />not to strive,<br />you won one race and thus your alive.<br />Enough "what ifs" and regretful talk,<br />just look forward,<br />and walk your walk.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53852689589968537.post-75510186372562135412009-06-09T23:51:00.000-07:002009-06-09T23:54:19.643-07:00I am not my name<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTBbZlub_kzx0kIFIYDNAqB31B-kD9iC-n2B-sbXKo50LyUI8s3wJ90Of3jxqZM8t1NYODEQkvAow4ios5O-bkhOeYZv0CZHKZYOspxJ5vJz2lViS-iFG14QqxSDhECOLT3Zs94g0k7Y/s1600-h/I+am+not+my+name.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTBbZlub_kzx0kIFIYDNAqB31B-kD9iC-n2B-sbXKo50LyUI8s3wJ90Of3jxqZM8t1NYODEQkvAow4ios5O-bkhOeYZv0CZHKZYOspxJ5vJz2lViS-iFG14QqxSDhECOLT3Zs94g0k7Y/s320/I+am+not+my+name.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345588573342832850" /></a><br />What came first<br />the name or the definition?<br />I know in the case of me,<br />I was named before I could be described.<br />In such an order, is it possible my definition could no longer bear to be in the presence of my name.<br />and if so,<br />What significance does a name hold?<br />Simply a point of referral between two searching souls?<br />A common identifier?<br />Or can a name hold more?<br />Mean more?<br />I am not my name.<br />Thus i am undefined.h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13354634996537071834noreply@blogger.com