I'm Out!!!

Of town. Had you going didn't I?

I'm going out of town for the week to see my daddy. I am a daddy's girl through and through. Twice. 'Cus I have two daddies. Biological and guardian. I love them both so much and I never really take the time to talk to them, or any family really. It's one of my more shameful attributes. And I am trying to reconcile that. You never know when the day could be their or your last.

Because I'll be out of town, I won't have internet connection. Actually, this is a scheduled post, as will the other posts for this week be. I don't know when I'll be able to get to the library to make sure I get this done for you, so I'm making sure I don't break my promise.

Also, being a writer, I ahve a few writer friends. Below is one piece by a very old friend. We shall call him M. M has been writing for as long as I've known him and I love his work. His talent is painting pictures with his words.

I imagine some smooth, low voice reading it aloud to me and it's a calming pool of bliss. If I could give you audio of that I so would. And now, on to the beautiful:

The air of the human element,

Reading, seeing, feeling that hidden power

Self illuminating deep textured spheres,

Colors, images, mesmerizing transparent eyes,

All wanting to share deep layers of melodious overtones

to love the drama and the rhythm of the word fused with sonorous language.

Divine rhythm, layered from earth scaling upwards

Flowers, trees, hills, colored essence rising

Spiritually reflected with sunset painted frescoes

The look of the sky changes, pictures presented like each unique mood

One by one they trace their lines,

Spreading flowery pink hues with glorious purple stains

Here, a sphere, here the song,

Hear the layers all gathered together

Each day, a set of new instruments traced together in the sky

Each day, wondering, how to bring them down

Look into my face and you’ll see a calm man

With his eyes in a different dream, always hearing what can’t be heard

But knowing it holds an intense beauty.

Each dramatic surge reads like the innate driving pulse

Constantly revealing, solemnly reveling

In deep orchestral colors, of which I can only share

Sad little fragments

That need to be gathered together,

Each theme carefully corresponding  to

Surges, dreams, love, question, yearning

Peering over the edge into a reality that can be made

Hands raised towards the sky, gathering the motions, directing the current’s flow

The layering of evening colors harmoniously blended,

And over the land, voices raised in wordless tones,

Melodiously textured to reflect

the simplicity of colored fields to the eye.

Orchestrating the melody

Voice, upon voice, lovingly evocating simplicity

Contrast with those complex ones, more dissonant to the ear

Textured lightly, clearly, chromatic impressions

Strings seep through, singing continuously higher

guitar electric, light colored main voice, transition

layers of altered textured sounds carefully crafted and matched

to give voice to wordless internal reflective monologue.

Gentle, sad cycles, calling up to spiritual triumphant

Humble, pleading, thrown to mercy’s creative oblivion

To find answer, upon answer

Of the connection of image, motive, song

This one solo voice transformed into guiding textures

Blissful, cyclically striving,

Infinitely dynamically rich

Instruments may not exist to properly create that sound

The flow of each surge, the pulse of each colored breath,

Rising ever on, greater chords, painting liberation

with tones held away, inexpressible save by careful transposition

voices controlled deep before a thought becomes spoken word

deep before words, only this tone exists

to serve as mirror of all those moods, sanguinely reflected

the impenetrable space of truth in creativity.

So what did you think? Help me encourage M to post his work online. I want to know what you think in the comments below. Happy Monday!