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FLAME
He watched as the flame licked at the lip of the candle, the wax slowly conceding and falling in, forming the cradle on which the flame danced. He wondered how something as simple as a wax cylinder could have an inherent knowledge of beauty and simplicity and yet he stared at it certain the knowledge…
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MORNING SLOWLY
Morning slowly encroaches on your dreams, eroding images despite your tightening grasp. Clear lines blur, become hazy and dissipate, bleached by the first light creeping around the shades. The dreams do not care for they will arise again when they choose and this is for them a mere inconvenience. You are the loser here for…
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TO BE, OR
The beauty and the difficulty of being in the moment is the realization that there is no moment in which to be. When you ask what time it is, I can only answer by referring to what time it is not, for time must be relative to that which no longer exists, or has yet…
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an old writer and his words 