Mortal Hands

To engrossed in thoughts of the day,weary eyes will not rest.

Peering behind life’s curtain now,witness an enlightening karmic bequest.

There a woman does exist,along with a man.

To greet the spirit once again and walk upon the land.

Entities that walk in life,as the mortal kind.

Remembering the essence of an existence once left behind.

There is a love,such not in words,but a feeling so very real,

To close old wounds naturally,so forever they may heal

They know the bond,a spirit free.

That kindles warmth into an eternity,

Such is all that matters,all that needs to be.

Now to habituate this world, in a quiet sort of bliss.

No one to be hurt,nothing made amiss.

Among the living though,in deep complexity,love to you is quietly heard.

For he is she,and she is he and together they love the third.

Then to the future,with all its uncertain terms.

Awaits the unsuspecting,for which the heart yearns.

Thus life among the living,so much to be enjoyed.

Meets the love from whence it came,again the hearts deployed.

Hence never go away alone,nor ever live in fear,

The presence of an eternal love, always will be near.  

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Pathway to the Window

She knew the love was not hers to have,the moment had passed away. She still saw him all the time,but the emptiness was hers alone. He knew her well and wished no harm,but could not give her as she truly wanted. He had tried. Years had passed since that last embrace. Near to her in the pain of her heart,he pursued the love of his own. There was nothing more to give. Nothing could be done,She walks in the shadows of the memory,a relic of another time and place. She wished the end would come so soon,but knew such was not to be. Now he is with his chosen love,in painful witness for her to see. She smiles the mask that covers the pain, another day goes by. She has the knowledge that time will heal the pain,but such a block in the fabric of time seems hardly worth the wait. She fiddles her mind in such innocuous ways,to cover the tracks of her folly. For the truth to be known is perceived as a terrible waste,thus buried within the secret plan. But the secret plan waits to unfold, execution so hard to understand,the happenstance does not will,another day goes by. The radiant shine hurt her eyes,yet did plan not unfold? The beauty of her inner heart answered seven fold.  For though the passion does not die,the future still awaits.Seek beauty in the sky. Dream on little angel,he is not to blame. Live life to the fullest,not in deaths name. Do not purposely die.

Eyes of the Soul

 

Eyes of the Soul

 

I shipped out on board the Gypsy Witch to escape from her piercing eyes which haunted me continuously,but still they remained, always present,even after crossing over thousands of miles of deep ocean. She had been so sweet and kind in her parting of the ways,yet in her never ending kindness lived a relentless pain for which I knew of no cure. My escape into the sea had boomeranged as the stinging salt spray drove the loneliness ever deeper into my soul. Our fine 3 masted clipper ship was beating windward now into a relentless freezing gale over a seemingly endless white capped sea. The beautiful and majestic Witch took the freezing gale in her teeth, as she plowed her fine lined sturdy clipper bow onward towards the treacherous Horn, each oncoming wave sending shudders down her spine and huge plumes of spray over the windward rail. The cry of the wind as it sang in the rigging was music to my tortured soul,whistling and then screaming in one long eerie song. I felt as one with the Witch as we faced the punishment of our existence from which there seemed no escape. My regression into the past was momentarily broken with the barking of orders to go aloft and reset the Moonrakers. These aptly named sails were the highest up, thus very dangerous sails at the peak of our tall ship. The crazy bastard of a captain seemed intent on killing us all in the name of speed, fame and glory. From the deck,that was just fine with me. I gritted my teeth and scampered up the twisting ratlines with my shipmates to each successive spar ever ascending. High up in rigging the ship’s motion turned much more violent, with a wild pitch and sway motion that made it very difficult to hold on. Looking down,the ship appeared as a small toy beneath the bending and swaying of the mast. The freezing wind screamed in the rigging all around. I was the first to reach the Moonraker spar. Placing my feet on the footline we stood upon and braced against to furl and unfurl the sail,I began to work my way to the end of the spar,holding onto the spar and inching my way out to the end. I felt the shifting and tugging of the footline as my shipmates stepped onto the line to take their positions behind me along the spar. I never was comfortable with working at such heights,even when in more calm conditions,it was simply something I learned to stomach as I did what was required. Fear and prayer were constant companions as I worked aloft in the ships rig,only lessoned by frequent numbing fatigue. Suddenly, I felt the footline go slack beneath me. I instinctively hugged the spar as I heard a shipmate scream as he instantly fell. In the ensuing blur I could not discern where he landed. I hoped it was in the ocean,however even that was an almost certain death,as a ship in those conditions is impossible to stop. It would be very difficult for the sailors on deck to get a life ring to him in time. The rapid onset of hypothermia then becomes a welcome blessing to the overboard sailor. The southern ocean tossed the ship violently as if intent to shake the rest of the sailors from her rig. The mistress of the sea seemed to revel in her dominion,exercising her frightful power of life over death. I hugged the spar tightly in pure terror,uncertain how I would get to safety. Her warm piercing eyes returned,I hugged the cold rough life sustaining spar. It was impossible to let her go. Could there be a second chance. God help me to survive.

Sound Bites Cannot Cure U.S. Economic Malaise

Today’s “in the moment” sound bite type rhetoric in the U.S. is harmful to a clear understanding and correction of the root causes underlying the economic malaise still present in the economic marketplace. The policies set in place over the last 30 years relating to supply side economics and associated deregulation and repeal of 1930’s Depression era rules, Glass Steagall in particular, must be examined in detail. While sound bite reporting often targets the ballooning national deficit as a core driver of the current economic situation,understandably since it is the highest since the end of WWII, there is little mention or recognition this debt has been escalating since 1982.There is a notable exception of decelerating national debt between 1995-2000,which also resulted in a balanced budget. The balanced budget and declining national debt however was subsequently and rapidly reversed. The policy decisions that must be made cannot be explained and properly acted on by short self serving sound bites in use to inform and sway public opinion. The public would be much better served by repeated, rational, well thought out open public discourse, as opposed to the single item sound bite prevalently in use to inform the public on such complicated issues. The power of the people needs to return to the people in the form of an intelligent decision making process.