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| april 2007 |
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| One Hour | 6:35am saturday, 28th april |
One hour where I live in stillness, and know who I am.
One hour before the time when I must begin to live life.
One hour before the end of all the pretending.
One hour and the world can turn upside down.
One hour before the dawn, and so much left undone.
One hour that separates the hero and the fool.
One hour and we will breathe our last, that short.
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| Granted | 4:44am tuesday, 24th april |
The reprieved from execution soon forgets to enjoy his days. Such is the problem of satisfaction. We have shown in our science that the more one has, the more one wants, and that whatever a person does have, he or she will take it for granted. Truly, even knowing that we don’t know what we have until it is gone, if we get it back again, we will forget it once more. I begin to take my sanity as a normal thing, now (un)ironically; I think back only cursorily at when I had it so rough, when the whole world was against me. Or at least, when my own self was against me. Perhaps for me, God is the answer, as I in my search for Him begin to understand how great He is by the marvel of His creation. Perhaps there are ways to know what one has before it is taken away. What a mind blowing thing it must be to have it all and to know what he has.
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| Going | 1:48am friday, 20th april |
How time can seem endless for an hour and then we wonder where the hour went. This is the condition of man: full of sound and paradox, lost in himself, lost to the time that flows over and through him. We shelter our hearts like they were precious candle flames, then casually topple them when the time comes to act upon their light…. Look, up in the sky: a million stars that were never meant to care of how we come and go, but how they can inspire us if we let them. Long after we are gone, they will still shine their constant light: and this is not what is meant for us to be, our constant flickering. In our search to be human, let us not count the hours, for we know not when the clock strikes that we are finished. The endless hour will pass, remember, and remember that we were there for it, not matter how lost we seemed to be to the going.
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| elements | 10:05pm monday, 16th april |
while i was amidst the ashes i lit fire after fire
all my senses ablaze with the flames, i lost myself where i was
who are we to use the elements? or let them use us so?
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| the stand | 12:01am thursday, 12th april |
we were mute here standing at the turning of the tide
the doomsayer died, and no one was left to foretell of the end
we walked on, forgetting, until we no longer had faces
till our feet bled what we had dreamed, out in the wilderness
bald with pride we stood against the rushing of the river
fierce in longing we prayed for the rains to recognize our pain
we wondered if to bathe in light would wash us our sins
here beyond the limits of the imaginary city, the dream of home
and standing alone, we kept watch over the infant visions
none to know except that he were the conduit of the electric fate
we burned in wonder, and lit a million candles, and hoped
drenched in dreaming, to find our way back to the word of life
would we stand in the path of the great wave of time?
inflicted with a thousand deaths as the yawn of eons boomed?
yet the architecture of night will crack, dawn glimmer
we remember the dream, the tip of forever in that single kiss
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| Happy Easter! | 1:48am sunday, 8th april |
Love is the impossible made possible. This is what we, the faithful, must believe. This Easter season, let us remember that we are asked to believe the impossible made possible, one who was dead raised to life — wholly from within His own self, not by the hand of anyone else did this happen. Myself, let me say that I am a scientist, if one were to ask my personality. I do not go to this belief blindly. It comes again to say that those who do not believe in any of this “quaint” tradition, that these were merely not called, as yet. For I held it in my heart that it was only superstition, this whole bit about the resurrection — but then I was Called. I will not go into details, for these things are tailored specifically to the individual in question, it would seem (in other words, it may not seem a lot to you what happens, right up until it happens to you, too). But in my case, I now believe that this impossible thing was made possible: the God in man’s form came back to life after a horrible death. This is Easter. This is what we believe.
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| Art Appreciation | 12:13am wednesday, 4th april |
It's another from the "asylum" series, Corridor in the Asylum by Vincent van Gogh. 
Click on this to get a larger version. I particularly like what he did with the colors in this one.
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