a fallen leaf

If we don't know life, how can we know death?

:Confucius:

Do you just love it

when a faded-way-past-the-stars memory bubbles back to life

in such a small space of the mind?

Well, the mind is relatively tiny when you give half a speckle of the cosmos a thought.

Let's just call it a falling leaf.

The leaf tears away from the thread of its branch.

There was a time...

When I was young and quite reckless.

There was a man twice my age.

Something like untouchability laid on his walking grass.

He had that twinkle in his eyes.

He saw the same in mine.

Our eyes met.

Far from romance,

but it had to do something with passion.

No,

not of passionate romance,

but of ever so plain passion

for what floats of the life mission.

Who knows what transpired as his plan

but now it is the unthinkable

because

the story unfolds now.

The leaf tears away from the very branch.

He was a magician.

He believed in magic.

He needed an assistant

who believed in the same as he did.

Showered I was with gifts;

a yellow rose,

sonnets,

poetry,

thoughtful letters,

and

most of all,

the very alive twinkle in his eyes.

The leaf floats in midair.

Never did I feel more alive

or in more awe of the mystery that seemed to roam within life

especially when questions were terribly beyond rife.

You see, I was barely of the driving age.

I had years before adulthood would wind upon me.

So, I never did much but smile

and accept his gifts.

Might have written him once or twice.

In my dreams, did I assist his startling magic with far willing exuberance.

In "reality",

it never took place.

Now

I can not help but wonder

how

no more than a chance encounter

showed me a profound wanderer

to say the least.

I thought it over and over

until that space of invisible matter

called time took the thought

and parted it bit by bit.

a little past soon after,

I barely could remember.

The leaf gently glides on the ground

and now is amongst its brothers and sisters.

Now

Think of a falling leaf.

See a falling leaf.

Watch it until it reaches the ground.

the sense of being alive

So, is it....

how

to connect

or

what

to disconnect?

Then, you might have been told

that you have your own road.

However,...

others may beg to differ.

They say, be like a heifer.

Follow the rest,

stumble onward in a straight line lest

the ultimate destination be a slaughter house.

Why leave the house

just to choke on false prejudice?

They say damage lies within the loss of objectivity.

I say...

to live rationally

is a shove towards ethereal spoliation.

Rove from the objective eye for once

and walk by all contraries.

After all,

being told how to participate

is but an imposition.

An imposition to what, you may ask,...

an imposition to the development of what is often unjustly shriveled.

The shriveled lies in the dormant core of a human behind a mask.

Lies the shriveled in so many

that it makes my head spin

like a disembodied fin.

Do not let this confuse you.

Let's just chalk this up as

a pep talk

about a way of life.

Like a beehive,

you never know how much life lies within

until you shake awake.

a thought on a piece

"Take Your Son, sir!"

by Ford Madox Brown (1851-6)

::oil on canvas::

Words dribble like the salvia of a starving dog.

Actions leap like a jaguar capturing its prey.

Still, bless all the children that roam in this... world.

Let them be with whole hearts

and know love.

-a certain momentum-

"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."

-Emily Dickinson

Love is, indeed, in the air.

Okay, I am just running on sugar.

It happens.

Really,...

wholesomely and truly,

truth in love is like an virgin meadow

that no one really knows.

As far as an eye can struggle to conceive,

faint, very faint

glimpses of truth in love

swirl in the air.

Such truth lies in wait

deep, deep, deep

in the back of its lair.

Far and deep in the corner

of its lair,

truth sits there in vain

as our present-day world turns and tumbles;

it begins to collect dust.

Yes, the truth collects dust!

Have you ever seen a dust devil?

It can raise some hell.

Breaking Free

One, two, three,...

well, yes, I am checking.

one, two, three,...

you know,

I am kinda having trouble

getting out of my seat.

I think the quieter

I wonder,

it mists into a ponder.

A reality in the mind of mine marches on.

A forest of truth awaits seekers.

It is where true freedom lies.

Must freedom ring,..

what would be of its ring?

Might it be the salvation of aloneness,

the medicinal relief in loving and being loved,

or

maybe chopping wood and carrying water?

Zen in,

Zen out.

It could become a trend.

People of the 21st century are, ahem, can be such whores.

Pardon, but whoring happens.

After all,

trends usually involve whoring.

Addictions include whoring...

I trust you get the picture.

Whoring, set aside from the duties of a prostitute,

is the means of excessive usage.

Clearly, that does not evoke freedom.

Now,..

how,...

how is true freedom truly defined?.

Freedom is beyond words.

Freedom is way past flesh.

I quote Ecclesiastes,

"Even the breeze on the arm is vanity."

Yes, a bit ironic.

I am saying a word is beyond words.

It happens.

So, tell me,

help me...

it is our journey.

Well, we are in the same lifetime.

We owe it to ourselves and the future generations

if there must be any more.

How do we break free?

The Carousel of Our Present-Day Lifetime.

Time.

One little lousy word.

Still, it is massive.

A massive little lousy word!

Time whisks away

like

the grainy alcohol in a cheaper-than-a-tin bottle

in the hand of desperation.

It goes fast,

yes, time.

The way I see it,

time has succeeded a fictitiously prosperous sense in our lives...

especially these days.

We succumb to the fleeting tick-tock

of the clock.

Each and every single day

there is a split-second

where the clock

meets our gawking eyes

after mindless hours stuck in a whirlwind of nothingness.

We have forgotten.

We have let life slip before our eyes.

Life or time,...

You might wonder.

I say life

because

time has consumed the marrow of life.

Time has crippled our sense of life.

After all,

what does one say

when one realizes the fleeting speed of a day

when it hit dusk.

"Oh, where did the time go?!"

But what about life?

Where did life of that day go!?

Recover your sense of time.

Recover the pace of your life.

Recover YOUR life,

or perhaps,

rediscover your life.

Turbulence of the Mind

States of my mind come and go

quite just like

the seasons come and go.

Served by the illumination of a perfect summer day,

I easily thrive like a gecko

only on that day, anyway.

Fathomed by a grey autumn day,

I pause more often

to the stillness

of the bay.

Are my eyes playing tricks on me?

I ask the divine

as I stand stunned

on a pleasantly frigid winter day.

"How did winter get here so quickly?"

Silence.

More Silence.

As fragrant blossoms arrive,

wonders begin to dance in my head,...

as they begin to find their places

in my head

and make me believe

they have settled.

Just about when they do,

they are softly but quickly blown into the gentleness

of the spring breeze.

In all four seasons

that take their turns

in a sweet year.

The mind can only follow the heart.

Silently I am reminded

of the vast course in life

I must take on.

Oh, how I must take it well.

Seasons of life,

apples,

oranges,

berries,

or

whatever fruit that moves you.

Devour it to the core

with your mouth.

See what you are left with.

The marrow of such fruit

is

what you are left with.

When a season departs,

we are left with

the marrow

of the given atmosphere.

Oh, how we must go on.

The summer air gives to the fall breeze

as

the fall breeze begin to drop icicles...

Then,

the icicles transform into puddles

of hydration just for spring.

Oh, what it takes to just spring back,...

Oh, such states of the mind.

Stealth

So, tell me...

who has not been robbed.

No, I am not talking about being mugged

at the ATM machine.

For the thousandth time,

being robbed in the monetary means

is NOTHING

compared to being robbed

in a spiritual sense.

I will tell you this,...

if you will look at it this way...

a baby is robbed

of its natural state of "mind"

the very second

the baby is shown

that

one needs words to reciprocate in life.

Now, tell me,

what have YOU been robbed of?

"Intelligence is the inborn capacity to see,

to perceive.

Every child is born intelligent,

then made stupid by the society.

We educate him in stupidity,

and sooner or later

he graduates in stupidity."

-Osho

Rain makes good medicine

May you see the rain

the way I see it.

Rain falls from the skies

like a healing dance.

When was the last time

you looked up in the skies

and let rain fall on your face?

Let a heart of sorrow,

or maybe,

a mind like a broken record

be the reason.

Sometimes

we just need the rain

to wash it all away.

Is it such a crime

to believe?

Is there a reason

for the heart

to feel such things?

Call the melodies of the heart

gifts from the divine.

Now

what about the times

we need to heal?

Oh, the rain.

The rain washes it all away.

The rain comes in

swaying downward

doing a healing dance.

We just need

a little bit of rain

and time.

Let the rain wash it away,

whatever it is that you need gone.

Let the rain take it for you.

Breathe in the dance

the rain is doing for you.

One day

we shall see

why rain is so sacred.

Are you awake?

"Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one's head."

-Mark Twain

What do i remember after all that I've forgotten?

In the thickness of silence,

I find myself drowning in indescribable peace.

Slowly I recall...

how I often forget

to write of happiness.

Happiness melts in the mouth of truth.

Never there has been a clearer sign

of divine light in pleasure.

I only want to embrace

what I believe

I've been given.

Divinity is like a spectrum

of complex beauty in truth

blended in fine, fine sand.

There is an aroma about you.

As the air of your aroma settles on the ground

of my existence,

I only know it is simply a part

of my truth,

a truth in my journey.

Something about you inspire me.

riflessione

Sunshine!

How we need a bag of sunshine

even when it rains rainbows.

We just need sunshine

to survive.

Oh, just to survive!

If you will see,

we need a bag of sunshine.

When we stop and reflect,

we need sunshine to see.

To collect and receive,

The water's gotta be still.

Just still enough,...

maybe,

as still as a dill.

Sunlight doesn't stop until

it reflects upon something.

Let it be...

a puddle of water,

a glistening body of lake,

or

a shimmering, vast sea.

To collect or receive,

the water's gotta be still,

just as still as a dill.

There is no denying that

we live not without

the sun

or the truth.

Go ahead,

look straight in the eye of the sun.

Then,

look straight in my eyes

and

tell me you know

everything there is to know.

Oh, to be in the groove,

I would suppose

we should sit down

and talk about the laws of nature.

Just like of Mama Earth's team,

we humans, too, need to follow the stream.

Gotta have sunshine in a bag.

So, when you need to reflect,

you can always let a bit of sunshine out.

Love or Lust

Is it really a choice?

Does love truly stand alone?

Is lust a mere form of wanderlust?

Is there not a question in life?

When answers seem to be in the cards,...

Say, a gust of wind blows the cards out of place.

What is one to do?

Fall back on your feet, right?

Even when one may not dance,

one still must sway to the given music...

You see,

doing something is not always doing something,

like,...

it is not always as it is.

Life is...

You tell me.

You make a decision.

Love or Lust.

I am not talking about going to bed with someone.

I am talking about making choices.

Love or Lust.

...amore sciocco

....

I get by with a little bit of help.

Let it be,...

moments of truth,

amazing delicacies,

the warmth of sunshine,

the unmistakable smell of the bay,

or,

distractions.

Still,

every morning

I rise to,

every corner

I turn about,

every afternoon

I sail through,

every shell

I bend down for,

every dusk

I salute to,...

a soft angst lingers on.

Sometimes

I like to call it

some soft angst,...

hence,

zest for life.

After all,

wouldn't you say

life

is a flavor to savor.

yeah?

magnétisme

Magnetism.

Attraction.

Bond.

Coincidental?

Initiatory?

How?

Life.

Love.

Live.

Love.

The only way to live is to love.

It just might drive you crazy.

At least, you will know the best kind of crazy.

Love well

and

you shall

live

well.

Like perfecting a tree pose,

balancing your stance,

Taking a breath just deep enough

for the sake of standing still

in total peace with gentle strength.

Like of a tree pose,

balance is vital

in love and life.

May you be blessed with balance.

Amontilado

“Nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.”

-Oscar Wilde

You know,...
I have known a certain passerby
for as long as I can remember being an adult.
Maybe that doesn't make that one a passerby.
Still, I shall call that one a mere passerby.
Sometimes a passerby has a way
to one's heart.
Let it be a glance,
a smile,
or,
the tip of a hat.
A passerby just does as one does.

That one works like the mystery of a mosaic.
Transparent yet muzzy...
Breakable but is not frail.
As hopeful as a dream,
yet, as fierce as a nightmare.

Years of lies masked with praises
and false glory may have left that one adamant
as a fire hydrant,
and then,
botched up that one's heart like a butcher
a carcass in a cold meat freezer
Still, there is a glimmer of beauty.
You know, the kind of beauty
you need to rub your eyes
in order to see.

Oh, yes,
stories to tell.
Stories to keep.
Stories to forget.
Stories to remember.
Some stories are gladly passed on
with pride like a torch of flame.
Some fade with the past
like a forgotten name.

Let this be a story
Of such a flame,
or perhaps,
A forgotten name.

Velocity

"Sometimes when you think you are waiting, you aren't waiting."

Every dawn the sun rises,

every night the sun sets.

Every dawn the sun greets,

every night the sun salutes.

Who ever is there?

The sun is always there,

coming and going...

always warming somewhere

with its luminous presence.

The question is

who remembers,

who realizes,

who embraces,

and

who looks up to greet and salute the sun.

We forget.

We slumber in our thoughts.

Life runs by us.

It is just easier to sink than to swim...

in consciousness.

Get it on.

The speed is on.

No one really knows it.

Do you get it?

It is going faster than we think.

We are always on the edge of the plank.

We are never waiting.

"There is light in the strangest place if you look at it right."

-Anonymous

"Somewhere over the rainbow or not"

You never know what is around the corner.

May it be something you have been waiting all your life for.

Being the hidden optimist that I am,

who would not wish for that...

Being suddenly showered with something you always dreamt of.

Sometimes something happens

and it is nearly the farthest thing from the resounding echoes of your heart.

Still,...

you never know what is around the corner.

I am not throwing you a curveball.

It is just how the ball rolls.

The ball of life, of course.

Like a blue moon,

how do you see blue in the moon?

There are so many shades of blue.

How would you begin to choose a shade of blue?

It lies in your head;

the shade of blue you see in the moon.

It is in your head.

Or better,

your heart.

To discover the shade of blue in your moon,

a journey within is in order.

Go within.

Dare to discover.

Hey Hey LilCuzzie! I'm the first follower! Yippee!!! Love your blog! Can't wait to read more!

xox Big Cuzzie

Stepping in.

The most demanding part of living a lifetime as

an artist is the strict discipline of forcing oneself

to work along the nerve of one's own most

intimate sensitivity.

-Anne Truitt, sculptor.

"A Path's Tread"

How true.

From a very early age,

I felt a certain burn from the inside.

It always spoke to me

from the center of my torso

but never in clear words.

The burn was neither good or bad.

However, it did have a need to be fed.

Obtaining its nourishment through observance

by discovering and embracing the core

of the burn.

For a long time,

I did not quite get the burn,...

Why does it burn,

How did it happen,

What is it made of,

When did it start,

Who else has the burn?

Aha, time came.

I understood that I was an artist

discovering the ropes of life as an artist.

At last,

I dared enough

to embrace myself as an artist...

How beautiful,

how densely rich,

how amorally perspicacious,

I thought as I began to understand the burn.

Still, I do not know why it burns,...

or how it started.

Kindly remember, it is not good or bad.

If anything, it is more like a glow.

A glow without color,

but with immensity in unseen amenities.

Go ahead...

Tell me

What art is.

I want to know what you think.

I think...

it is like holding a floodlight

in the dark.

There is always something to discover

as the burn lingers,

as the glow deepens.