dust of artist past

Dust of artist past.  As time moves on a building stands still, a shadow of its former self.  The beauty and elegance dulled by age and neglect.  The shallowest of breaths as to not alert others of her presence. That this once grand lady be allowed to fade on her terms. Alas, unable to flee from the men who seek to remove her heart.  The very heart that once pulsed life through the bricks and mortar like veins... Darkrooms used as storerooms. Playhouse now warehouse. Playwrites lament for they know its not right. The birthing suites of such creativity now abused and left for dead.  The art forms which began their journey here have journeyed on and scarcely think to look back.  Abandoned.  Surviving on the memories of glory past though slowly losing her battle as she chokes on box upon box of stuff.  

gather and glow

I saw angels looking down from above at a dark and barren land.

Then a small light began to glow where believers were gathered in worship. 

writers block

songs scribbled on napkins, scrap paper.  prophetic thoughts forgotten in shoeboxes. lyrics that linger in the corner of the mind, longing to connect and come out, see the world. consciousness that clears in the blur of sleep and wake.

real and unrecorded. lost with the rise of the sun.

why we will the sun away.

As a kid, playing cricket in the backyard after school, we would despise the sun for leaving us as the shadows grew long on the ground; it meant packing up and going inside.  Friends would be collected by their parents and our day would be done.

As I have gotten older my relationship with the sun has shifted.  Although I still enjoy everything it has to offer, life, warmth, vitamin D and the freedom to play cricket (though I don’t), I have discovered a different kind of freedom offered by the moon.

In the near darkness old friends sit around staring at fires, reliving stories no one else would understand.  We don’t even have to speak for it to become a cherished memory.  We are together. That is all we need.

New friends meet in the shadows.

We feel safe to say the things we dare not utter in the light of day, when our expression is there for the world to see.  Fingers search in the silence until they graze and linger, then entwine.  Stomachs knot and cheeks blush.  We will the sun to stay away so we can stay in this moment that we will never have again.

“In the morning I’ll regret staying up this late I bet.

But for now I’m fine cos I’m with these friends of mine.” Carl Jackson

sorrow vs joy

Is sorrow a stronger emotion than joy

if our eyes puff but our lips not be made to swell?

sky fell

The sky held out as long as she could.  A strange mix of day and night hung in the air.  Then one drop escaped and fell to the ground.  Soon the dry earth seemed but a distant memory as she lost all control and the clouds applauded the spectacle. 

let your light

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark;

 the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. 

Plato