Musing.
so I was watching some foreign film last night and this hit me:
I was thinking of the last time I stood still and watched the rain. When I contemplated the essence of being: Water.
there is something about hearing and watching the rain and not getting wet. The danger of thunder and the threat of lightning. The heavy sound of water falling to it's ultimate end and the scary sound of clouds making trends. when it rains, it does not always pour. when the sky weeps, there is always a means to an end. When you're wet and wanting more. When there seems there is nothing you can do but wait. When you watch and do not move. Wonder. Think deep thoughts and contemplate. Hold a deep thought meeting. Make your most important decision figure out the deepest ingrate of your soul during the storm. More often than not, you're alone and wondering during that storm. More deeper in thought you're keeping an idea warm. And where is the contrast that you're harboring? When the harbor bell tolls through the fog, is there a deeper meaning than you standing around...lost and waiting for the next cue....for the elevator to come when you're standing next to the stairs.
/
There is something about walking into a crowded waiting room and being the first to speak to the lady behind the window. To hear the professional tell you everything he will tell everyone else. You, the living. Will you be the first, or the first among many? Will you set a trend or have the same thing many others have had before you?
When you knock or ring upon that doorbell, that so many others have tried, that cellar door that none have dared. when you look at that spiral staircase, what do you see at the summit?
I know.
A white summit with eggshell cream tones.
Ecru offset and 6x6 tones.
there will be a breakfast nook and sweet vanilla scones.
an old white lady, and strange melodic tones.
and a coffee maker and things that are all white with cream with two people at a table and in the background there are tiles and it seems
that everywhere you go
or look
or imagine
there is imagery and scenes
and he said he would be there.
and he said he would call.
but niether happened
and there was sadness overall.
instead of whites and blues and greens and happy hues
there was a good singer of the blues and greys and browns
good people huddled together with thunderous applause reighning(raining) down.
as the upper echelons say "quality is not for the poor"
I have already been
in my mind (and yours)
and where are those views that make us weep on approach, like in the movies
and where do those words lie that make us believe
though sins be not changed by our chances, our actions be not phased by our deeds.
and I felt so passionately about these words. and they came to me so freely, though not all at once. and all it took was one glance at rain. all it took was a glimpse of sorrow, of a amn and a woman in love, or a woman wanting love, or a man in need, or a person receiving love, or a baby with its mother, or a plant without water, or anything without love which needed it most.
All it took was a glimpse of a rain cloud. a memory
and that was my inspiration.
I worry that my ego be the real author.
I don't know why, but I am really feeling the words. I wrote it so I could read it to someone.
I need to go to sleep. I always stay up when I am away from home. I always get drunk, too. I am hungover and needing the bed right now. I think this coffee will keep me going.
I was thinking of the last time I stood still and watched the rain. When I contemplated the essence of being: Water.
there is something about hearing and watching the rain and not getting wet. The danger of thunder and the threat of lightning. The heavy sound of water falling to it's ultimate end and the scary sound of clouds making trends. when it rains, it does not always pour. when the sky weeps, there is always a means to an end. When you're wet and wanting more. When there seems there is nothing you can do but wait. When you watch and do not move. Wonder. Think deep thoughts and contemplate. Hold a deep thought meeting. Make your most important decision figure out the deepest ingrate of your soul during the storm. More often than not, you're alone and wondering during that storm. More deeper in thought you're keeping an idea warm. And where is the contrast that you're harboring? When the harbor bell tolls through the fog, is there a deeper meaning than you standing around...lost and waiting for the next cue....for the elevator to come when you're standing next to the stairs.
/
There is something about walking into a crowded waiting room and being the first to speak to the lady behind the window. To hear the professional tell you everything he will tell everyone else. You, the living. Will you be the first, or the first among many? Will you set a trend or have the same thing many others have had before you?
When you knock or ring upon that doorbell, that so many others have tried, that cellar door that none have dared. when you look at that spiral staircase, what do you see at the summit?
I know.
A white summit with eggshell cream tones.
Ecru offset and 6x6 tones.
there will be a breakfast nook and sweet vanilla scones.
an old white lady, and strange melodic tones.
and a coffee maker and things that are all white with cream with two people at a table and in the background there are tiles and it seems
that everywhere you go
or look
or imagine
there is imagery and scenes
and he said he would be there.
and he said he would call.
but niether happened
and there was sadness overall.
instead of whites and blues and greens and happy hues
there was a good singer of the blues and greys and browns
good people huddled together with thunderous applause reighning(raining) down.
as the upper echelons say "quality is not for the poor"
I have already been
in my mind (and yours)
and where are those views that make us weep on approach, like in the movies
and where do those words lie that make us believe
though sins be not changed by our chances, our actions be not phased by our deeds.
and I felt so passionately about these words. and they came to me so freely, though not all at once. and all it took was one glance at rain. all it took was a glimpse of sorrow, of a amn and a woman in love, or a woman wanting love, or a man in need, or a person receiving love, or a baby with its mother, or a plant without water, or anything without love which needed it most.
All it took was a glimpse of a rain cloud. a memory
and that was my inspiration.
I worry that my ego be the real author.
I don't know why, but I am really feeling the words. I wrote it so I could read it to someone.
I need to go to sleep. I always stay up when I am away from home. I always get drunk, too. I am hungover and needing the bed right now. I think this coffee will keep me going.