A Short Story

Once upon a light filled, flower dripped river valley, in a far away Sunday afternoon, lived a great big Whispering Secret. It was very turbulent and pressing. One day it met a Surprise Wind and they got along like a natural reflex and a melodious harmony.

They decided to travel to the land of Instability and Instancy because Secret had a way of tuning in and recognizing important needs of people.

On their way, they tripped over many strong, deep tree roots, six devious trolls, and one very strange, tricky alligator and because of that, they used their combined wit and zeal to get there more quickly.

When they arrived at The Field, they called for a celebration of victory, and gathered all the rosebuds, children who hadn’t forgot how to play, and all the striped water balloons one could fine.

Then, they got very tired and all took a nap there in The Field, under the cool shade of the Trees and Grassy Knowls. There wasn’t a single head that wasn’t resting soundly on another’s stomach.

When they woke up, they were befuddled to see that all the children had upped and gone away. In great devotion, they thought endlessly with their close companion Eastern Hope, and after days of rolling around in the Field, letting themselves be covered with grass stains, they decided to stay and make home with the children who forgot, in the land of Instability and Instancy. Both Whispering Secret and Surprise Wind learned that all children need helpful reminders from time to time to remember who they truly are and what they are wonderfully made for, and they decided that from then on, it would remain their prioritized, heavy passion to stay and remind,     remind,     remind.

the end.

Broken Leaf *a new poem*

I tried to keep my broken leaf up on this pedastel.

I tried to keep it breathing as long as I could,

but as life decayed, I watched all its colours begin to fade.

It didn’t stay alive as I always thought it should.

spoonfuls, doses, patches, flashes, and motions

“The Wright brothers could not invent the airplane without having faith that humans could fly. But the creative process requires imagination as well as faith. To stop war, we must first imagine peace. To eliminate poverty, we must imagine abundance. To paint a masterpiece, we must imagine beauty. To change, to make a fresh start, and to live up to our highest, fullest potential, we must not only imagine a better future for ourselves, but imagine it over and over at each step of the way, knowing that the sun still exists even when it is night.”

-Naomi Hoshino Horii

some new, some old, some sketchy, some rough, real?

You will find in me

A delicate dichotomy.

We’re all sick and broken,

So we eat the words that You’ve spoken.

There’s nothing to ignore,

so let’s not dwell in denial.

 

Another night that I feel,

A little out of place.

Where is the secret to be

Content in this space?

Yes, I do the things I want

and I keep up my pace

But where I am going

There is no settlement.

 

Desirous of the Good things, the Good

places, sounds, and discoveries.

Envy has slipped into my mouth,

Another world’s country, in the streets

Where dirt meets the smile, and

Children do the teaching. They are the professors.

Prophecy knows innocence there/and the mud knows Life.

I feel a melancholic gladness towards you.

You peregrine after the Heart. Free in the air…

A heart of cowardice, a wish to go, but

I’m here at bay, losing count of the days.

********************************************************************

 

A Poem

The Cup and The Wine

hallow and empty.

sticky and hairy.

all foul smells and sour tastes.

dark and grim. Can this come from within?

a cave is down there. It’s full of shadows. It’s damp.

come up, to what light? hypocrisy and ill conradictions.

I feel circles, so many circles. they spin over too fast. too fast.

the noise is only noise, volumizing our inside :tensions: depressions: lost intentions:

I raise my voice, but I stop no echo. It continues to ripple for generations.

God knows. He always knows.

I’ll seek silence like a peregrine after prey.

I’ll lose track of time, and

You’ll be the Cup and the Wine.