Over his head
Were maple-buds
And over the tree
Was the moon,
And over the moon
Were the starry studs,
That drop from
The angel’s shoot.
- Excelsior by Emerson
——————————————————
The Har(d)est Words Linger Longest.
——————————————————
You know what we had
Was perfect & beautiful.
You know what we had
Was unique, It won’t
Ever occur again.
Why couldn’t you leave
It like it was?
It was happiness
And laughter
And joy
And potential.
Hope springs
Eternal unless
The source is
Disturbed.
What’s left?
Memory replaces
The veil of
Self control.
Memories so long
Ago that are
As fresh as
The sunrise
You know some
Things re supposed
To be. But selfishness
Is the destroyer
Of worlds.
It was easier to keep
Desire on hold
When there was still
Plenty of life ahead of one.
As more and more of the old
Guard dies, I find
I have to fight the panic all the more so.
———————
These are pages from the Pictoplasma program in 2018. I highly recommend attending a conference if you get the chance. Some wonderful (and weird) character work is presented.
Hello soul, I am
Soul. I’ve been looking
For you & I didn’t
Even know it.
Thank you for still crushing on me after all these years.
Thank you for never screening my calls.
We die too soon and live too little.
——————
