Distant Shore
t1alfa@web.de
THOUGHTS
When I think of what I thought, as I was gathering my thoughts, and thinking myself so very clever;
I am reminded of a time when mighty bells did sound, and their echos floated on forever.
News,print and internet.Keeping us up-
Regurgitated dribble,openly disquised as laughable, being programmed and channeled every second of every day for the eagerly awaiting masses of the ghost-
Appearantly,critical thinking has become a malignate sickness that must be sneered at,ridiculed,and ultimately,driven from the collective concienceness of mankind.
Conformity is the essence of a healthy mind; and questions should only be asked within the framework of answers already given.Otherwise,it is obvious that the person in question is suffering from symptoms of a degenerative disease known as individualism.The true root of all evil.
Dismissing these words only serves to prove the point.
RPT 2012
In my sleep at night they come; complex dreams flowing on simplistic landscapes of multiple surrealistic realities. Fractured, if not shattered, within an imaginary time-
In my sleep at night they come.
RPT 2012
I awoke in a forest of green, filled with life living.Walked bare foot on a carpet of gentle blades to a raging flow of liquid tranquility.Drinking my fill,I inhaled the clean crispness my being knew would be there. Smiling to myself in silent enjoyment .
In the arms of a graceful old oak,I heard the whispers of seasons gone by. Secure in centuries of serenity. Cotton ball clouds to pick by hand, growing on a light blue field. Ripe for the harvest .
Under the shade,across the valley floor,I watched creation playing the game of life, and winning. In harmony one with the other. Rich in vitality and freshness. As if in that very moment existence was given. Warm golden rays added their voice to my sense of complete contentment . And still I felt empty .
A rustling in the forest drew my attention and pulled me in the direction of the shadows between the trees. Through the the branches in a small clearing I glimpsed the meaning of true beauty, and the emptiness left me. I had found what I was not looking for, in a search that I never started.
It was then that I knew the reason for my creation,on that first morning . . .
Gazing in the eyes of woman .
RPT 2000
Ying-
Many an intelligent man has thrashed about in foolish conflict;having forgotten the laws of harmony and chaos. His very essence tearing at the strained fibers of order.Lost in himself to the love of his own fragile convictions.Ever onward he charges,headstrong and arrogant,to the triumphant horns of certain ruin.And having ignored these laws,he curses the symptoms of his ignorance to the cure.
Without a thought will he relinquish his right to reason.For little more than a whim or fancy, he is prepared to reject wisdom and embrace the decomposing corpse of willful injustice. Joyfully does he lower himself into the unmarked grave of tyranny,deep within the burial grounds of self-
But what think he of conscience?
If indeed it is to be found among his scattered possessions ; should it not be manifest?
And still, onward he struggles.Secure in his confused clearity of disorder and chaos.The saliva of his contempt dripping for everyone and everything,including himself .And he knows it not..
If harmony is order or congruity of parts to the whole or to one another; it follows that there can not be true harmony without an appropriate measure of chaos.The truely intelligent mans challenge is in finding that proper balance.Equivalent portions of both.
Harmonic Chaos.
RPT 2006