Yes, I do. It must be the rain. Go to the supermarket or stay at home. Risk going to the furtherest supermarket of the nearer one. Has the nearer on got peach flavoured iced tea yet, or go to the further one that has it. So many options. I’m not sure that I am up to this on a rainy Sunday.
I sat back last night, not yet having TV to watch the news, and visited a few blogs that I knew and enjoyed. I found that many of them had upped and flit, yes gone, went disappeared. With messages like ‘we’ve done our bit’ and the like.
I would like to put an image here, but I’ve forgotten how. I found the image, but how…
Hmmm, that seems to have done it. Yes, my ancient debris, I guess that’s how you would describe it, my blog (fool!).
I also took the time to peruse some of what I had written over the past years and the advice I had dispensed and I came to the conclusion that perhaps I shouldn’t rise from the ashes like the proverbial phoenix (or is it pheonix). God the ravages of time dims the memory.
I’m going to further bore you with a poem. Yes, it’s mine; I wrote it about two years ago.
Awakening
I wake
No bed
No body
No aches oe pains
No age
Just me
My mind
Realisation
It dawns on me
I woke up dead
I’m not in Hell
Nor heaven
I just am
Once again
Part of the cosmos
I am home
Bathed in cosmic energy
I am the essence
I can see the whole human experience
So limited
Brutal
Barbaric
But now
I am safe
Galactic arms embrace me
I seek more
I am ready
A spirit is always ready
The thirst for knowledge burns inside
The need
To know more
Hear the sun and wonder
Smell the rain full of hope
See, the music of life and tremble
Taste eternity and feel the power
To take the next quantum leap
Over the continuum
Into the surreal
Fettered not by the physical plane
Overcome barriers that impede
Mortal man
For I am the cosmos
The cosmos is me
I exist
Yesteryear
Philosophers of yore
Argued the pointsore
Essence or existance
Existance or essence
A moot point realy
Futile
Pathetic
Banal
One and the same
They float in separtate worlds
The aether
Above and below
Heaven and Hell
Neither
Man misconstrues so much
Fails to grasp
Just doesn’t understand
He is so limited
Shackled by chains of rusting stupidity
That he alone has forged
He cannot see
That he
And he alone
Is the fool on the hill.
Well, are you out of breath, I am. I didn’t say it was a short poem. Meanderings of the mind don’t tend to the shortest route. I hope you enjoyed your visit amongst my synapses.
Until tomorrow. I have much to think about… and the rain seems to have suspended activities for the present.
AV
