Friday, August 10, 2012

He Waits for Me at the Threshold

He waits for me at the threshold of rebirth,
at the cup of the phoenix.
Together, we will shed our skins
to discover the truth between us.
Soon there will be nothing left to separate,
no misgivings,
no deception,
no fear,
Only an endless tunnel
vibrating and shifting,
moving closer and closer
to the threshold.

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

From the Sketchbook Archives: Identity

The energy of creativity strains to free itself from the blockade of the singular identity, the limiting "I".  The blockage compounds the energy and it stagnates, becoming volatile and negative.  The Identity becomes a brittle frozen mask, almost devoid of any remaining humanity.

Monday, August 06, 2012

Not What He Seems

All things become naked
in the fullness of observation.
The deception of surfaces
is pulled away like stage curtains
and the interior script
plays out the true drama.

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