And Rebirth
Welcome to the beginning of this tome…
There is no saints!
There is no patrons….
Just thoughts…
Pure thoughts…
Born of the fingers that type them…
Born of the reality of the moment…
Pure thoughts to mutter what they seek and then to find the rest to the night…
The mountains have been on my mind as of late. It seems that I have left them behind for sometime. I have visited… But tonight they call deep. Listening to the lines of A Perfect Circle calls to me more then any ever…. It seems that when I was deep in the forest listening to these sacred hymn weave there way in and out through out the deep forest day, I seemed to get a glimpse at something that was tolling out my life like the strike of the dawn. In the end, it only calls to me in the distant haze. As if tucked away at the subconscious for far to long to be expressed at the distant night… That is it that begs me to be drawn to the mountains… It is the same pulse of reality that wants to be born deep within… That is what I seek and what I wish to express… But then again as humans is this not the same deep abiding that is within us all… That secret understanding that wishes to be expressed in the deepest ways…
I have meet many people in my travels…
Many a far cry wiser then I…
I have meet many that are consumed by the paranoia that drives a spike into their brains. And I have meet many that are freed by the simple view of the world as it stands…
For me… I share a midst between…
In the simple act of traveling from birth to death,
All of us gain that simple essence that we all wish to touch in reality.
To perceive…
So where from here…
Tomorrow to the mountains that I call home…
To find the rhythm that pounds out my simple existence…
That of the rolling drum that is the deep forest…
Lost in the reality of all coming…
Lost in the simple essence of the ferns and the moss hanging from the trees…
But there is a different silence that finds your inner calling deep within the realm of the city.
In finding the simple essence that talks to you as you walk the streets…
Lost in the changing of the leaves…
The rhythms that catch the pulsing of the city…
In and out they go…
Caught in the great pulse the humans make…
Beautiful…
Yet…
Destructive…
Somewhere deep within the two there is unity…
Must get to the mountains…
Must look over the valley to find that pulses’ meaning…
And there…
Deep within…
The union of all things…
Simple and sweet…
There is no saints!
There is no patrons….
Just thoughts…
Pure thoughts…
Born of the fingers that type them…
Born of the reality of the moment…
Pure thoughts to mutter what they seek and then to find the rest to the night…
The mountains have been on my mind as of late. It seems that I have left them behind for sometime. I have visited… But tonight they call deep. Listening to the lines of A Perfect Circle calls to me more then any ever…. It seems that when I was deep in the forest listening to these sacred hymn weave there way in and out through out the deep forest day, I seemed to get a glimpse at something that was tolling out my life like the strike of the dawn. In the end, it only calls to me in the distant haze. As if tucked away at the subconscious for far to long to be expressed at the distant night… That is it that begs me to be drawn to the mountains… It is the same pulse of reality that wants to be born deep within… That is what I seek and what I wish to express… But then again as humans is this not the same deep abiding that is within us all… That secret understanding that wishes to be expressed in the deepest ways…
I have meet many people in my travels…
Many a far cry wiser then I…
I have meet many that are consumed by the paranoia that drives a spike into their brains. And I have meet many that are freed by the simple view of the world as it stands…
For me… I share a midst between…
In the simple act of traveling from birth to death,
All of us gain that simple essence that we all wish to touch in reality.
To perceive…
So where from here…
Tomorrow to the mountains that I call home…
To find the rhythm that pounds out my simple existence…
That of the rolling drum that is the deep forest…
Lost in the reality of all coming…
Lost in the simple essence of the ferns and the moss hanging from the trees…
But there is a different silence that finds your inner calling deep within the realm of the city.
In finding the simple essence that talks to you as you walk the streets…
Lost in the changing of the leaves…
The rhythms that catch the pulsing of the city…
In and out they go…
Caught in the great pulse the humans make…
Beautiful…
Yet…
Destructive…
Somewhere deep within the two there is unity…
Must get to the mountains…
Must look over the valley to find that pulses’ meaning…
And there…
Deep within…
The union of all things…
Simple and sweet…