Scribe
Scribe
2015
Sunset
Sunrise March 9, 1925… Sunset January 10, 2015. Proud to have been your son, Dear Mother.
Going Home…
Stepping into the gale of dreams and reason,
we tip between the flux
of lashing wind and pounding rain
searching for the country of our birth.
Senses reeling… emotions battered
intellect pitching on swells of dream entrainment,
we find a cave in the cliffs of clarified mind
and retreat into the shelter of isolation.
Together we drink the quiet peace
We're fluid and airy,
floating through the vacuum of inner space
high above the crawling thoughts below.
And there between the needle's eye,
we pass into the opulent vastness
of the Far Country.
—"Thinning of the Veils"
Sunday, January 11, 2015