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