Amigo Absoluto

QUEST Take me past the guarded place in you where confusion covers itself in unrelenting confidence then marches on In lively steps Take off the façade let it fall away into nowhere Turn around and face me I search the infinite depth where beyond all entrenchments I find your thirst to be met and understood the sadness in your bones, the want of your silent cries to be heard and be known— abiding within those unseen landscapes is a world of precious dreams Let me touch where the battle wounds lie quietly healing— Buried beneath an armored sheath rests a lifetime of love and loneliness, blame and triumph, honor and defeat Within this blended web of scars and treasures, glistening with honesty, there you are— I found you, beneath the soldier’s plated heart So loosen the knots around my own see all its agony bared and mending and in between each open space we’ll breathe upon the frailty All the wishful longings to be had bring to me yours as ...

The Mystery Having met you later in life, there are no memories of young romantic love,... high school roller skating parties, college weekdays longing for your touch. No memories of experiencing together life’s first tastes of freedom or the innocence of believing that we had all the time in the world. I never knew your young body nor you mine; those days when I looked radiant in the morning. When life finally brought us together We stood before each other In the stark reality of all we had become. Too mature to hide Yet secretly wondering If the other would stay And if love was worth the trouble After all this time. Piece by piece We removed the layers of life Shedding off what no longer served us Until we discovered a place deep inside, Beyond judgment, expectation, Or what anyone else thought Where we found only pure light. Smiling, we instinctively knew We had everything we needed For the rest of the journey. Now With you by my side I can see the li...

“I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.” —Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

“When you reach for the stars, you are reaching for the farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself, it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe.” – Vera Nazarian

“I thought of you and how you love this beauty, And walking up the long beach all alone I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder As you and I once heard their monotone. Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea – We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me.” — Sara Teasdale

Rietveld chair Do you know the feeling that you are going to sit down? on a chair that is not there the sensation that something is suddenly not where you had expected it without a double, an invisible push from the front. Surprised messages to all muscles: Mayday! Mayday! We are floating! We are falling! fold out reflex of both arms. That's why the Rietveld chair is as it is, so low and blue and red and good, as to point out that one occasionally have to sit down on a chair that does not exist. Ingmar Heytze From: It was about roses Publisher Podium 2002

Consider the other kingdoms. The trees, for example, with their mellow-sounding titles: oak, aspen, willow. Or the snow, for which the peoples of the north have dozens of words to describe its different arrivals. Or the creatures, with their thick fur, their shy and wordless gaze. Their infallible sense of what their lives are meant to be. Thus the world grows rich, grows wild, and you too, grow rich, grow sweetly wild, as you too were born to be.~Mary Oliver Image~Earshel Hogan Moonlight Serenade

“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.” ~ Bruce Lee Image~ Giovanni Allievi 

"Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt at being told that it is a fragment awaiting perfection."  ~ Rabindranath Tagore Artist~Christian Schloe

“The sweet peas were a dark purple that seemed almost navy blue, almost not a proper color for a flower. Such a saturated darkness, and weren’t flowers supposed to invoke brightness, not the dark? But they were lovely in their saturated darkness, and the graceful folding of their petals, leaning inwards, almost touching, tender on their light green, fragile stems.” – Mary Gordon, The Liar’s Wife

Her right hand lingers among my poems collecting words as a child would picking up pebbles her mind (all seashell & driftwood) her other hand hidden behind the falling waterfall of her hair cupped to her ear listening to a shell tell the tale of an ocean beyond the ocean of our minds. Dónall Dempsey   

(via Fleurs Pisa - Facebook)  Nel mondo io sono come una goccia d’acqua  che cerca un’altra goccia nell’oceano  e che vi si lascia cadere per trovar la sua compagna  e inavvertita e curiosa vi si perde. ~ William Shakespeare I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself.   via Fleurs Pisa on Facebook 

"Sometimes the secrets you keep are stories you should tell. The past can imprison you or it can set you free.  Choose wisely which road to take with secrets. Some shared bring war, some peace." -© E.Lucas -photo by Peter Lindbergh Like the Night

"When I open them, most of the books have the smell of an earlier time leaking out between the pages - a special odor of the knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between the covers. Breathing it in, I glance through a few pages before returning each book to its shelf."  ~Haruki Murakami Artist~Thieves books by Agnieszka Filipowska

Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine and at last you create what you will. George Bernard Shaw Light Reflections

"There is more to life than increasing its speed." - Mohandas K. Gandhi Bob Daalder Photography

"But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight." ~Ernest Hemingway Artist~Lynn Shaler-'Le Chat Parisien'

Real beauty bears an elegance, born of simplicity, which can never be found in grandeur! ~ Mary Anne Byrne

It is strange to be here. The mystery never leaves you alone. Behind your image, below your words, above your thoughts, the silence of another world waits. A world lives within you. No one else can bring you news of this inner world. Through the opening of the mouth, we bring out sounds from the mountain beneath the soul. These sounds are words. The world is full of words. There are so many talking all the time, loudly, in rooms, on streets, on television, on radio, in the paper, in books. The noise of words keeps what we call the world there for us. We take each other's sounds and make patterns, predictions, benedictions, and blasphemies. Each day, our tribe of language holds what we call the world together. Yet the uttering of the word reveals how each of us relentlessly creates. Everyone is an artist. Each person brings sound out of silence and coaxes the invisible to become visible. ~John O'Donohue

Into Moments © E.L. If I were to turn around reverse my movement my position retrace steps fall backward in time into moments, love, a life now gone with what I carry now all the living & experience all the knowing & the pain would I still embrace arms once warm, satisfying in their deception allowing what felt real but was only a beautiful pretense -photo by Deborah Sheedy Like the Night

“Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe,  a moment that will never be again And what do we teach our children?  We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France.  When will we also teach them what they are?  We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are?  You are a marvel. You are unique.  In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you.  Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move.  You may become a Shakespeare, a Michaelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel.  And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is,  like you, a marvel? You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.” ― Pablo Casals

"Yellow can express happiness, and then again, pain.  There is flame red, blood red, and rose red;  there is silver blue, sky blue, and thunder blue;  every color harbors its own soul, delighting or disgusting or stimulating me."  - Emil Nolde Emil Nolde Bright Sea 1945, watercolor on paper ArtHive

Follow the fish, follow the bird, If you want to wander, follow them Until the end. Follow their flight, follow Their swimming, until becoming Nothing. Nothing but blue from where one day Arisen the ardent metamorphosis, Desire even of swimming, of flight. Suivre le poisson, suivre l’oiseau, Si tu envies leur erre, suis-les Jusqu’au bout. Suivre leur vol, suivre Leur nage, jusqu’à devenir Rien. Rien que le bleu d’où un jour A surgi l’ardente métamorphose, Le Désir même de nage, de vol. François Cheng  Bron: lifeisthefight

JUST Just a little bit of heaven that's all I ask for on this day just a little bit of happiness that will finally come my way just a little bit of sunshine just a tiny little ray something to make my life much brighter add some color to my day. Just a little bit of heaven that's all I need to see me through just a parting of the shadows just a little bit of blue just a smile to brighten my day just a loving touch from you just some sight unto my vision just a changing of the view. Just a little bit of heaven just a little ray of light just a parting of my darkness just a daybreak to my night just a little bit of happiness just someone to hold me tight that I may finally come together and for a moment feel alright. ~ Jack Skeleton. – 11/1/15 pic via Hopes & Dreams

“Nothing that grieves us can be called little:  by the eternal laws of proportion a child's loss of a doll and a king's loss of a crown are events of the same size.” ~ Mark Twain 

Silently, like thoughts that come and go,  the snowflakes fall, each one a gem. ~ William Hamilton Gibson 

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shan...

Old friends, old friends Sat on their park bench like bookends A newspaper blown through the grass Falls on the round toes Of the high shoes of the old friends Old friends, winter companions, the old men Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sun The sounds of the city sifting through trees Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends Can you imagine us years from today? Sharing a park bench quietly How terribly strange to be seventy Old friends, memory brushes the same years Silently sharing the same fears Time it was and what a time it was, it was A time of innocence, a time of confidences Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you~Simon And Garfunkel Artist~Nick Fedaeff

watch the Moon She never fails : to these rhythms self avail in every sky the same is true fluent language of the phasing Moon raise the Sea to life the Tide in our transit, cosmic ride feel the grace of Gravity fly free the soul of you, of me in the middle air to meet and thus life does ebb & flow we creatures wise, surmise, we know share with all you love her below, as above    Tenebrae

And it was at that age... Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when, no, they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me. I did not know what to say, my mouth had no way with names my eyes were blind, and something started in my soul, fever or forgotten wings, and I made my own way, deciphering that fire and I wrote the first faint line, faint, without substance, pure nonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open, planets, palpitating planations, shadow perforated, riddled with arrows, fire and flowers, the winding night, the universe. And I, infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I ...

We are all haunted by the same two ghosts. The things we can't remember and the things we can't forget. ~~Michael Xavier

Sweet lady, let your lids unclose.-- Those lids by maiden dreams caressed; I am the phantom of the rose You wore last night upon your breast. Like pearls upon my petals lay The weeping fountain's silver tears, Ere in the glittering array You bore me proudly 'mid your peers. O lady, 'twas for you I died-- Yet have I come and will I stay; My rosy phantom by your side Will linger till the break of day. Yet fear not, lady; naught claim I-- Nor mass, nor hymn, or funeral prayer; My soul is but a perfumed sigh, Which pure from Paradise I bear. My death is as my life was--sweet; Who would not die as I have done? A fate like mine who would not meet, Your bosom fair to lie upon? A poet on my sentient tomb                              Engraved this legend with a kiss: 'Here lies a rose of fairest bloom; E'en kings are jealous of its bliss. ~~Theophile Gautier

"Danser sa vie, ne serait-ce pas d’abord prendre conscience que non seulement la vie, mais l’univers est une danse, et se sentir pénétré et fécondé par ce flot du mouvement, du rythme et du tout ?" ~~R. Garaudy "Dancing one's life, would it not be first to realize that not only life, but the universe is a dance, and to feel penetrated and fertilized by this flow of movement,  rhythm and everything?" Anartist

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed. This insight into the mystery of life, coupled though it be with fear, has also given rise to religion. To know that what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms— this knowledge, this feeling, is at the center of true religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only, I belong in the ranks of devoutly religious men. I cannot imagine a God who rewards and punishes the objects of his creation, whose purposes are modeled after our own—a God, in short, who is but a reflection of human frailty. Neither can I believe that the individual survives the death of his body, although feeble souls harbor such thought...

“In everyone's life, there is great need for an anam cara, a soul friend. In this love, you are understood as you are without mask or pretension. The superficial and functional lies and half-truths of social acquaintance fall away, you can be as you really are. Love allows understanding to dawn, and understanding is precious. Where you are understood, you are at home. Understanding nourishes belonging. When you really feel understood, you feel free to release yourself into the trust and shelter of the other person's soul. This recognition is described in a beautiful line from Pablo Neruda: "You are like nobody since I love you." This art of love discloses the special and sacred identity of the other person. Love is the only light that can truly read the secret signature of the other person's individuality and soul. Love alone is literate in the world of origin; it an decipher identity and destiny.” ~John O'Donohue

La luna cammina sull’acqua. Com’è tranquillo il cielo! Va segando lentamente il tremore vecchio del fiume mentre un ramo giovane lo prende per uno specchio.  ~~Federico Garcìa Lorca The Moon walks on the water. How quiet the sky is! Going slowly slowly The old river tremor While a young branch He gets it for a mirror. ~~Federico García Lorca Eilif Peterssen (1852-1929), notturno

She had thousand-year eyes. They touched upon me for all of five seconds but they stayed with me for months afterward. A man she would never meet had donated her clothing, three sizes too big but they kept her warm and hid her slimness, now just another shapeless figure among the shapeless mass here, in the semi-dark on one of humanities lost forgotten edges. Photographer // Lee Jeffries The Dreadful Bear  

"The tree which moves some to tears of joy  is in the eyes of others only a green thing  that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself." ~ William Blake photography credit: Hanson Mao

Heart Beat I have never known the touch of my own child but I have heard a heartbeat. I will not hold the fragile yet feisty promise of youth. My heartbeat shall not be reformed and shall not be heard through tiny new ears. My mummer of voice will never be heard. ~~Carol Peace  Text and sculpture

Edge of the World A circle. Its colorful, swimming with vivid patterns. But the circle is covered in black. Covered completely, with the exception of a small wedge. Through this one window we see the colors. Constantly shifting. This window moves around the circle. Exposing different parts as it slowly passes around. This visible section lives, emanating a buzz of colors. The rest is dead or waiting to be woken to die. No escape. Blackness comes, following and sweeping up the colors. Coming to the ones that have been longer in the colored space. And those older ones, they can look behind them see it descending. Look forward, see those in front and know its only a matter of time before time comes to sweep them too. The colors are many, but nothing in proportion to the black. They stand alone. Waiting on the edge of the world. Because really, there's no other place to be. ~~Aurora Lights

There is a way that nature speaks. Most of the time we are simply Not patient enough, To pay attention to the story...

"'When you feel homesick,' he said,  'just look up.  Because the moon is the same wherever you go.'" ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

A Queen Unafraid © E.L. She learned when she was young to be in charge of her own destiny to be focused, determined, willfull For a girl amiable and willing to set aside her own wishes and wants was a girl who could be manipulated maneuvered moved about the chessboard sacrificed for the wishes and wants of others But a girl with her own mind who knew how to use it who knew how to think that was a girl who was more than just kind She was clever And that was the difference between being moved about and choosing the moves that was the difference beween bowing to the king under his rule his command and taking her own place, equal beside powerful in her own right a queen unafraid to think, speak, fight Like the Night

I adopted a friend, Got him hooked up to my soul, leaving him the freedom, to come and go; An important meeting which tells me His history but also mine. What did he tell you ?