PROLOGUE All within my purview lays the seed of nascent poem waiting to be born. From aged evening to newborn morn and all that lays between. The world is the canvas from which I derive a literal scene. Though the colors, by the actions and experiences of others, are lent, The light with which I cast notice determines the individual bent. Nothing sacred, nothing saved, the rights of all are waved forever may they be in public eye. With delicate strokes of literary tact I gather thought and choice and act and place them into a verbal mosaic displaying all that Ive descried. Grasping wisps of comet tails, dipping into the light of stars, with broad strokes and with short, I vocalize the mood of mercurial skies and stoic sun, the whole of the Earth and life upon; of lovers quarrels; of hearts won. Of times to be and times long gone; From all points of the compass, to the near and distant horizon, as far as my imagination can see. The tether to my conscience be, the only measure of restraint for me. I respect we may learn to disagree, when finished is this loquacious spree that one or more may or may not see the meaning upon which the mind can lean. When once the course these thoughts have run and the telling of this tale is done a far-reaching search for inspiration within each day the world has spun, will have for me, once again begun; though the real joy of the work will be, well have shared the moment as you read
Posted on: Wed, 02 Jul 2014 23:34:37 +0000
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