CONFESSION ZERO

( Véronique Fabri ) The mission, at least for me, is not an accomplished art. Its message flies in the face, opposite any impending action with its trembling meander of what cannot be known, of what might be appreciated as a good and merry Love. If it’s just for my own consumption, my own journey, so be it. If it’s more than that, I still plan to seize upon it like a servant whose brimming confidence totes love with a hidden pleasure. I understand the dilemma. I see the greenness of my journey, the wind and chill and starlit diversions upon my course to love, the storm and dust and fluttering fears warning me of private snares that may await me on my road toward the unknowable unknown. Roadblocks can be removed- find a clear way around them. Believing is nothing more than a waiting doorway. A door, taken or untaken, is still a door to more of the unknown, a conduit on the way, propped up for my dreams. © 2011 b...

( Eternal Embrace via Mythic Meditations ) I shouldn’t write of love while I’m angry, but I am powerless says the muse of muses, the un-masterful master eating from an empty dish. I imagine one thing, told another, and shown nothing! Could it be that I’m oblivious to the half-love that boils beneath the skin as if it’s a cauldron, a vat filled with the grins of conjurers gnashing their despair? It isn’t rocket-science! Its innate discipline! It's basic math! But also lunacy, impure insanity lodged inside a gravely infected folly; nightmares lined with the mutilated skins of the children of war! Have I gone mad? Has all of this change, this hope, been a test meant for me to see even more of the unhappy rage, the world off her edge, children coloring outside the lines of white noise? Truth and untruthfulness are counter to one another, yet belief and disbelief are lovers, sightless and deaf, sharing their tired and cri...