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madweyaashkaa's journal
You are viewing madweyaashkaa's journal
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Boy, i'll have you know that I'm apt to forget so if at any time you need to, just click "reset" that should bring you to a welcome screen just watch the introductory video and wait for me if you've seen it three times and i've still not appeared, whistle "cock-a-dee-dee" and i'll soon be near |
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Future child you are in front of me though, I lead the way for you It is I that have made you. free, child. but it's your life will make me new, child. can I wear your eyes today, on my eyes? |
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child, stay on that saddle, child. don't let go of your paddle. child. don't be afraid. close your eyes when you need to. and when you open them child, I hope the world still looks new. I hope you don't know that I'm counting on you, child. |
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a new life a new way a new world everything is different I am the end |
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oh future child, you've grown too weak but your hands never get as cold as your feet |
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king is still gone and damn I'm clumsy today I'm back in the city looking for forgiveness why cant I just get the job done? |
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"I leave the city at night and I slip away through the bass drum thump and the cymbal jump Where to? '"I don't know... Somewhere better? |
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Asleep in my hammock, I drift past memories, past thoughts. I dream of a white city, where smiles are in surplus, they wander the streets alone, and happiness searches long for a heart in need because here we have everything. You were there of course. yes, me and you, together. together in the white city, drifting from action to action to reaction and back. for 17 years we have been covered with a blanket of silence though I think someone has been lifting one of the corners up, because every now and then I hear sounds rush in like cold air I feel sunlight on my skin, the touch of a lover who's been away for too long. |
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"Boredom is the root of all evil - the despairing refusal to be oneself." -Søren Kierkegaard
Boredom has put an end to imagination, but out of one fault, which is his alone, we will all retrieve the sword of Creativity from its stone tomb. Creativity is not special, but ultimately unavoidable. Each human hand has the strength to pull it, and each will in turn grasp its bejeweled hilt. This is the sword that we all used in the beginning, to cut ourselves off from The Wholeness that we once were (and in all true senses, still are). This sword, because it holds all the power of creation, once held, will bloom. Flowers will sprout from the tip of its blade! Beauty will be revealed unto the Son of Man. His own heart; your heart exposed, will grow, and its roots will extend deep into the soil and rock, and the earth itself will be cradled in your own loving arms. |
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I, He, I, She, I, The Breath, I the living, the lively, the dying, the lost drink of this cup, eat of this bread all you lovely, all you lonely all you children, dance with me I, You, I, We, I, The Dance, I Cry out, "Oh, My Lord!" Child, know that you are my Love. |
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