Creativity is a voice that you call to. It is right there, ‘t sings inside of you. You just have to learn how to reach out to it, hold, and pull it through.
Powerful presence Watching, overseeing us, Enveloping souls, Weeping. Raging veil Piercing, eerily floating, Blowing, shadowing.
Paths crossed, shifting lights, Leaf swirling by diverts eyes. Another love’s lost.
Senses heightened. Mind aware. I let him get close. So close… It feels like I can’t tell Where he ends and where I start. Thus our story begins.
Trapped, hands tied, mouth taped, Slowly I grasp consciousness I open my eyes, Discover a den – Earthen ground, soiled sheets undone On a dirty bed.
Tim was sitting in his favorite coffee place. It was large, crooked, ragged and loud. People were flowing in and out. Sharing stories with one another at the top of their lungs to cover the clamorous sound of music broadcasted on the dozen of old-school speakers, screwed on the walls.
Growing up in a rough place, he never thought he would make it. But there he was that day, in this place of all places, with that woman of all women. How gorgeous she looked waiting for him to come and pick her up on her porch.
He did not know what he wanted. He did not know what to do with his life. He felt like he was constantly watching time flutter and dwindle by, unable to grasp the flow of emotions repeatedly taking over, leaving his heart stranded on the shore.
My Shadow and I Striding alongside – asphalt Bound – sigh, and leap on.
April 1975 My brother and I had built that tree house next to our house with our uncle six years ago. Since then, on summer days, from dawn to dusk, we would sit there and pretend it was the largest, best-fortified castle in the kingdom
“The wind was brushing on my face. I was running as fast as I could, exhilarated by the empowering freshness of the air coursing through my lungs. The oxygen it contained was energizing me. I loved this forest, its feel, its sounds, its tastes.