Spiritual

Too Far

You are too far to be seen by me, when I try to look at Your face. You are in the dark, must be hiding from me in the blackest holes in space. You...

Concrete

There's nothing quite like concrete: miracle of abstract chemistry, canvas of gasoline rainbows, foundation of the information economy, the cyanide...

Shout out may the man

Can't we feel the heartbreak in the heart of things?

Tariki

(Embracing Despair, Discovering Peace) Hiroyuki Itsuki: ?In this terrible world of ours, all that counts is that you mentally clasp your hands in gratitude and say your thanks for being alive. Do this every day; do this to keep yourself aware and open whether you are in the grip of terrible suffering or are experiencing boundless joy.?

"as time begets time"

violin tears drawn across your bow create &; fill a pool spirit within your eyes lament a song but do not weep for us weep for time its minutes its hour its ticking hand its inflexibilty, in its drive its motion. strike a key dark or light light or dark resonate her you, the key in which she strikes uniting time &; sound. she has learned your rhythm well please, allow her to play for you her composition of surrender to the tick, tick. the sweep of your minute hand carves time upon the keys of her piano, as she creates for you, her metronome, her time signature her conductor. `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova "as time begets time" 4apr'05

The Torcal

The Torcal is a Nature Reservoir in Andalusia, Spain. High up the mountains it is an endless maze of rocks pointing upwards, there is an eerie silence only broken by the voice of the wind. This is a haven for rare plants and wildlife.

New World

My head pounds...

Pushing the Borderline

How to free the enemy from ambiguity and hostility.

"sonnet7"

upon the green, i find a tilt save for the hellibore does wilt, the slender brown mixed inbetween the proud of place amidst the green. the flexing mind in its repose is beckoned softly in her prose; the unsaid words but heard on ear in time are spoken in voice clear. the pawns are slowly moved ahead as thoughts are wondered in one's bed. listen! hear the green brown face as oftentimes they leave no trace. once on the lips, the wind does carry those priceless threads it does marry; however, on slim occasion, one does hear without persuasion. `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 11mar'05

GWYRCH CASTLE

POEM FOR THE LOSS OF A WELSH CASTLE