It all started with a quote I wrote on a post it note I stuck it not for show But for hope on this road I'm bout to solo I'm not alone though In fact the quote I wrote That thought provoked I got told I've to say it once inside my mind Then again to make it twice Out loud the second time Bring perspective to my eye No joke It's so I can focus through this hocus pocus I've conjured on my own That's slow eroding soulful In all the places that I don't go So Here's to a better day tomorrow And every one that follows...
~ Major blue empty: first listen to the weather pattern; the scaffolding remains, but the holding songs of color are threadbare; simulacra of imperfection simply swirls like seagrass, a pointillist matrix of rainfall rustles gathering scene -- nothing stands on its own initially; but after a few localized moments it collects to articulate this silence, as each sound looms and subsides in the garden of selective speculation. ~
To understand it, you have to meditate on it. Block out the chaos and white noise. Some messages lie clear, while others are deep as the sea. Without proper caution, one might drown than swim with pleasure. The words that are etched on paper are constructed to make one think, compelling the mind to become active. Once you’re into it—it becomes more than didactic. As one focuses the mind—much is revealed! What is revealed is like grapes yielding wine and olives yielding oil. But until then the mystery remains sealed.
