Musings

poetry

Reincarnate

the night has a thousand voices and though their languages may all be different their meaning is the same. nothing is truly alone for all is connected, bonded for life and even after, for nothing ever really disappears. our molecules, our atoms combine, break apart, and combine again as something new, something different, shifting phases of existence. it is most literally a circle of life, continually turning, and ever changing.

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poetry

Changing Channels

The remote clatters Back into The carefully carved Artisan bowl, Headless Of any damage Such brash treatment Might abide. The massive supernova Of a screen up on the stand Goes black, Devoid of power To distract her anymore. She picks up a book instead, Reading art Upon a page As if it were A canvas Upon A gallery wall. The infusion Of creative beauty So complete It moves the muse To begin To whisper Again.

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