These mornings are so different now.
What is it about the light surrounding me
that brings me back home?
The day is here.
I am here.
We are here
together.
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It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
-
▼
2022
(201)
-
▼
March
(20)
- Sincerity and Conquest
- pregnant grey clouds burstquenching thirst of a pa...
- Growing Closer
- Younger Days
- It Is Yours
- Giving Thanks
- Morning Meditation
- Casting
- Don't Pay
- Morning colors meConsciousness blooms once againMo...
- Know
- Morning Light
- The Old Life
- Think of the green leavesBare branches are dreamin...
- Pointless Worry
- Snowmelt
- Seconds to Infinity
- Expectations
- When Two Are One
- Azure
-
▼
March
(20)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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