The discipline of a tree, the words aren't there --- the stationary nature, the motionless existence would kill me, yet its beauty gives off a peace.
The morning silvery fog, renews the day, life goes on all around yet in the night it is renewed, the pains all recede and sleep refurbishes
The tree never sleeps, the grass always grows, it moves in its own way , the energy of staying alive in dormant winter is movement, how am I an artist?
I feel these things as GOD the father lets me, I find the words but where from? The well of true thought, the existence of His gleaming sphere, the light of a new day that’s where it is all found, the moment of now is the safest place in time, the true love of night in a day of darkness in the time of our dying, the next day is always a better way.
The feeling of life as it passes though the fingers of perception; the flow of thought in the mind of you
The feel of the keys as it passes on your thought; the sip of the coffee as it touches the tongue; the inhale of the smoke as it goes into the lung, the touch of a childs hand, the yearning for the love of our child, so that someday he may just hug and kiss you for no reason at all other than gratefulness.
My children give to me a brand new love of life brought to me by their innocence as the pink morning sky grows by second in the rising sun. The time of my existence in the year of my life in the day of December.
The trail of my life is leading me to great moments and in satisfaction truer life could not be had,
true art and love are all that we ask for.
There was a little alley in San Francisco……..
So quiet this time, I have life by the cusp… sounds of early morning, first plane propeller, gentle sky sound, all is well in life, all is GOD, trust in him, see what he gave to you, see the peace on the face of a child who feels the wonder of it all. How could that happen but by the grace of GOD?
They know, they really do know. To see them come to life infront of mine own eyes….like the birth of my children, the birth of a thought in the day of my creation.
The first thought? What was it? I am cold? No, it was "what is that?" The eternal universal first thought, "WHAT IS THAT?" That is the primordial thought of man.
