“Romantic Imagery of a Creative Mind”
At The End of the Day
….this thing we call life is but a granular drop in the sand bucket of ageless time, where as i walked in the fog of a frosty forest mist, there came the appearance of those wood spirits calling out as follow me, till in my waundering o’er glens of mossy trails i spied a log to sit a spell….
—time passes with bleating sounds of seconds and hours, and all around me i looked at the trees who stood their ground, these are the knowing ones who spread their branches in circles of praise, not asking for anything that would encumber the flow of sap to heartwood….
—“why sit ye here with riddles that belittle thou mind, give up ye desirer’s to make a name and watch thou heart grow with poignant glee, so much that is said from the fields of noisy workers endeavors, is but the rumbling of empty minds wanting to engage in endless chatter”….
—their words were found at first as falling on the shores of a unbelieving soul, who had lost his way from the simple things of un-tarnished working at wood, this was about me in the race to gather my circle of created rewards, while many wood pieces screamed at me of their betrayal….
—and so i looked in the silence of feeling the breath of living trees, as one who knew it was time to gather my-self for homeward bound, back to the places of rumbling and rasping machines with empty souls, that were all to bent on chasing my spirit into the hell they had prepared….
—up against the cluster of upcoming projects with time bent phobias, as customers stood calling to demand a place in scheduled completions, and i was only the pawn who served in their game of get it while you can, till there came that day of heartfelt meltdown as the heavens closed….
….that was then,
in the before,
of after agony,
till i became….