Monday April 3 2006-"7/12/2002"

Memory, memory of what all I have been. Another comes and goes in the night, voices of the same past, drifting on the clouds again to solitude. I am no longer again lonely, for I have never really been even though I was. The great distance apart, from the forgotten ways of ourselves.

The many times in which I think I free myself from this place, it fortunately does not forget me, and comes to my side. All in which to say, remains in constant variation of themselves. Young boy stole, karma coming back around the hill, for things in which I once stole. I ask " How long can it continue, even though I have resolved within, and have become my friend again.

I see beyond the horizon, into the dreamlike future, to the place of where I will be, the edges of tassel tangle from the cliff of consequence, forgetting for a time of what is becoming. If only listening to itself was a habit, then problems will be solved, at least for the time.

What measure is the acceptance of the understanding of these things within?

How long will the weary traveler continue to bear the mule of selfishness?

Will one create it, or give up completely?

The river is aqua, clear, and slowly moving from this distance south, an array of color veils the sun ray, and the mileage add in the mind, for time has a large rate to travel through the gate.
Im thinking I found her, but then always wonder. I will be patient, waiting while she feeds, feeds of my energy of love, love without 'bounds' of limits, unconditional. I will enjoy 'showing' by illustration of reality, me, giving what I have inside, and expecting nothing in return. I live again, but only now I know how to do so. It will be a mild summer, then late into summer, it will be hot, slippery men of shadow, playing like they do with our weather in the sky. I wonder, wonder of the future like all, filling my head, ready to spill out into life; oh yeah that is what this is, into the fastness of the sea.

'I do not know
of the man in the realm-bag, perhaps
he is the only person in the vacuum, and has not changed
since there is no external circumstances in life to induce such change.'

Crumble away broken hay, chaff of flunder, you ones said word softly spoken in lies, this is no surprise, hide away like you do, for the exception looks you always in the mirror. Salty air of ocean, your crown of waves going along the mask of your deep, point the direction with the wind, make the tops of pines sway all of the worlds problems away.
Nature, without
Nature,
WE,
are doomed to an extinction of dust,
our progeny.


What happens in life matters only if the good is sought in self, in others, and all. The bad matters only for the fact that it builds character, endurance, self.
The self becoming from hardship, happiness, and just being.
Make self become what 'self' wants itself to become, for only self is stopping self. Without all of these we do not become.

I am speaking to myself, as I have always been, the only way is known, now do.