Inspired

Ever on, through the bright glades and dark woods. We walk together, beaten path, or untrodden secret

In light, in shadows, in the still quiet of a night filled with a thousand sounds and a million dreams burning like fires above our heads.

Fortunate are we, who have dreams that can melt the winter of our days. Sweet melody of the sylvan night? Is that what I hear? Or is it just the hammer of my heart that forges hymns from the rays breaking through the shadows. I know not, and do not wish to know. May I never wake from such dreams.

Though dreams are meant to be only a moment away, it's to the clouds with you that I would go, so that there might not be any minute left to count when you're too far away for me to reach in places that I cannot follow.

** I can only take half the credit... The other half is yours to claim Karl. **

2011

It seems only fitting that I should find myself here tonight posting my final draft for 2011 while noting that it's only my seventh post of the year. I will probably find myself years from now wondering what could have kept me from writing. And to answer I will probably remember this year as one that contained mostly stress, strife and general discontent mostly of my own making.

But I really have no regrets. What good are regrets anyway? They serve no purpose save to make you feel miserable about having felt miserable. And since I cannot change what has already been, I can simply look forward to a new year, a new beginning and the hope that somehow I will make those much needed changes to promote better health and a better spirit for me and for those I love.

In the Running for the World's Shortest Poem

Copper pennies. Water fountain wishes.

Waiting on dreams.

Dog Days of Summer

Sunday Morning

Far too early to be awake on a Sunday morning and yet I'm almost reveling in the quiet solitude save for the sound of the washer currently spinning out a load in its attempts to rattle the rest of the house awake.

Golden sunlight skims across the tops of the trees and pours itself like liquid gold across the darkness of my hardwood floors filling the house with its soft translucent light. The only thing that could make this moment better would be a steaming cup of coffee by my side. Alas having been spoiled so recently by the Keurig coffee machine at work, more specifically Timothy's Italian Blend, the folgers sitting solitary in my fridge lacks the same temptation.

The Unsuspecting Unexpected

Sometimes I like to send unexpected emails to unsuspecting people. Emails that make odd statements. Statements that are often meaningless and untrue. For example, "I want to be a ninja," was a message I sent last week. But I don't really want to be a ninja. I'm just not hardwired for violence that way.

But what I like best is when those unsuspecting people who read my unexpected emails write back... Today's response, "So do you still want to be a ninja?" received yet another unexpected reply.

"No. Today I feel my true calling would be handing out turkey legs at a Renaissance Fair."

And this my friends is why even when I'm in the most foul of moods, I can still make time to laugh.

Insomnia

The inability to sleep when your eyes really want to close. Or the consequence of going to bed at 8:30 at night.

I'd say more but there is a bedroom ceiling I've got to get back to staring at.