we all are gypsies of a sort wandering traveling through this life other lives space and time here there and yon on roads less traveled - this is a written and visual journal of my own travels - imaginedand/or real - come along with me -we'll danceamong the stars under the sun and over the moon - share our stories around the campfire -come along -
this site is simply a streamofconsciousness rambling of words and images in which i find meaning and beauty - there is no organized order of thought or format - poetry painting and writing on love and life and things thereof from the heart and through the eyes of a louisiana gypsy spirit travelin' roads less traveled...enjoy -
AS DARK AS NIGHT
WERE LIKE THAT OF
IN THE DARK...
SHE WAS A
round and round...
from the fire
her face was all aglow...
she was dancing...
the RISING SUN...
loving caring relationships are like THE RISING SUN...we are nourished by their warmth...we are energized by their strength...we grow in their light...we find shelter and solace there...they are our sanctuary...
born in the sign of the sun, i am a true LEO-love the sun and its hot orange red fire-passionate in and about everything i do-i believe in instant chemistry charisma love/lust at first sight-in the magic of the eyes and the beauty of the soul-in the instant recognition familiarity in meeting someone from a past life and in the knowledge that we might meet in a future life-i believe that we are each ageless and flawless-i believe in the beauty of the moment-the whisper of yesterday-the hope of tomorrow-the power of forgiveness for even ourselves-the absolute and total beauty of love---[credit to brian hyland and curtis mayfield]
the maidens ate the poisoned fruit
given them by tongues made mute
and knew not then their act imputes
the hiding of the sacred flute
the waters rampant they do run
through the night and to the sun
and in their rage the deed is done
the evil web now is spun
if the earth should quake and shake
the gods reject and do forsake
and if of knowledge they partake
the virgins left they burn at stake
the raging rivers sweep away
all the signs of those who stay
there is no hope for them who pray
the gods are gone from these last days
the tiger roars its ancient cries
as prophets shout from burning skies
and angels float to their demise
now silent all who are to die
[as a postscript to this post - after my initial post here today i realized that it, too, dealt with the same subject as the post before it - so i transferred that post over to "travel journal" for today - several hours later, came back to do another post here and just finished when i again realized that the subject matter remains the same as the last post and the same as the one i just transferred - since i compose as i do the actual post, i don't always know exactly what a post will be until it is done - in any event, it occurs now to me that there may be a reason not mine to question in all this so i am leaving this post here notwithstanding all the reasons i had intended not to - peace - jenean]