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| february 2012 |
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| slipped | 1:02am monday, 27th february |
this moment has passed from one dreaming to the next
slipped from the tongue the taste that made me believe
to the eleventh degree, to feel the burn of time
as the winds of change continued through my veins
wired into the bare metal behind the curtain of night
to fathom the rushing horde of armed information:
now i have returned to myself a beggar and a spy
where the horizon reveals where the sky is leaking
what calculations may transform the darkness to light
i humbly beseech the smallness of my heart of hearts
to find in what is forgotten the answer to saving
and there, in the closeness: what love had whispered
and i had been too large to hear, too swift to get
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| Update | 5:26pm thursday, 23rd february |
So, I’m going mainstream with my crazy idea. If you recall, and I’m sure you don’t, I realized some time last year that the only way I was going to get my ex-girlfriend back was to pick up and go to New Zealand, where she’s been living. Just recently, I finished translating all required theory into code for the main logic of my AI. I'm not done, mind you, it’s still rough and untested, but as soon as I was finished upon this task, I felt a great weight lifted from my shoulders, and a veil lift from my vision. I suddenly knew exactly what I had to do. Quit my job and fly to New Zealand. So, I’ve given quite a bit of advance notice at the day job, and I wrote the ex-girlfriend a message telling her I’m coming, unless she specifically tells me not to go. Haven’t heard from her yet, but I expect to. In any case, things are about to get interesting. Real interesting.
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| someone else | 12:27am sunday, 19th february |
this is where one exits, and enters
and becomes someone else entirely
for that which strikes the soul’s note
tunes the path to the know of our dreaming
the light that dances on the story
turns the sky to the dial of our fire
the dreaming of which is the know of our path
believing without pause in the magic
for our will is how imagining becomes real
and we dance on the edge of the depths
fearing nothing, breathing the miracle
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| the sword | 12:36am wednesday, 15th february |
i have dreamed of eternity outside what is known
i have danced on the edge of fate, a daring fool
i have thought myself old, and also just beginning
as time gave me no second glance, continued on
i hammered away at my armor of immortality
making sure to check out every corner of my eye
for the dragon i suspect would realize one hour
that i stole the most precious prize from his vault
the lens by which to scry the dream within the world
as i attempt not to succumb to imaginary airs
to draw the sword from the stone, king of myself
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| Flickering | 2:24am saturday, 11th february |
What is there for us in this life? There come times when I wonder of the deeper things, whether they really exist or no. A man can have everything, and to him, they can amount to less than nothing. Love: there is always talk of it, but no one knows what it really is, how one may hold it, see if it is real, sniff it for lies. Whether there is a God above, I feel it in my heart that the One watches over us, and yet at times He is so far away — even when I know He is here with me, I feel as if I can never touch Him.... And yet, with so little there seems for us that this world offers, we go on. There is an unnamable dream, I think, that we all share, whether we conceive that we do or not. It is a hope for something which we have never seen, and would wonder what it was if we did. I do not myself know why we press on like we do, what this dream may be. I sense it, though: in darkness, it is as if a single candle is lit in some far away corner of the Earth, and its dimmest rays shine on us an eternal, if flickering, dawn.
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| commences | 1:14am tuesday, 7th february |
in the year of the dragon
i struggled free in the halo heights
opened a door in my soul
where the light could swim in
to hold a whisper of belief
as it spelled the ceaseless prophecy
as the now poured forth from the void
as i descended into form
here, at the beginning of the depths
each in the eyes of the unknown
to ignite the miracles
as commences, here, dreaming winds
in the year of the dragon
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| Somewhere Else | 1:17am friday, 3rd february |
Where is the place we go to when we are mad? For it is an other place: the landmarks are unfamiliar, the language is strange, the people are different. The meaning has changed. Places once visited daily are suddenly sacred shrines, or hellish pits. Someone says something to you and it is as if they hint at some other thing not said, that you can't quite get a hold of. People you've known all your life — they become angels, they become demons, they become gods, they become machines. Somehow, we understand so much more, and we understand so much less. We become part of a myth, we are foreigners never getting accustomed, none of what we think is happening is happening. Where do we go? It is here, but our eyes: our eyes are somewhere else.
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