We move about …
barely recognizable phantasm – illusionary spectrums.
We come upon a border where day dream and night dream blend together.
we pass through … Beyond life’s existence, perhaps …
Bright lights and black abysses combine mythological imaginings …
and truth. Raw experiences of life’s brutal passages midst temporaneous moments, the falling petals of life’s blissful sensations.
Imagination, Thy tune be well played … As in the heavens so onto nether reaches.
Shall our voice be heard for that which becomes valued most …sweetness and caresses, those learned impassioned fingerprints smudged among frozen moments of time; although shared not lightly, introspective to perception.
Should we concern ourselves with the causation of sharing? Fearful lest there be understanding come at last into the mirage of our being, the root of perceived existence?
Traveling through endless corridors of life’s gained wisdom, do we admit defeat just prior to endgame or become empowered by eternity’s solution?
And do we deny the existence and ownership of the key to our individual, self imposed cage of containment – those rigidly manufactured, maintained and re-enforced bars of willful ignorance – so that no answers are required?
Yes, we do.
~ Penny L Howe, 2014
I’m frequently asked why I write what I write. Mostly, I write to inspire, motivate and inform, but every now and then, the Muse of “The Penny That I Am” gets hold of me and then I write for myself. This piece was written of a moment, where the need of creative thought formed this composition. I’m hopeful there was some small understanding and at least a bit of pleasure derived in the reading.