CPoetry

 it is not about the "where" but about the "going". ::: there never was nor ever will be a greater currency than itself manifest as the forms of family--- of friendship. ::: "tell us the story of The Three Fools": the first of the fools was a mountain guide from Nepal. growing up in the high elevations had expanded his lungs and darkened the skin on his face. he knew the summits of these mountains like the hills of his knuckles. so innately aware of their alluring beauty, he was also aware of their precarious stillness; each one of them a guillotine of ice and snow-pack ready to drop to the head of a perfect vibration. although their stillness was purposefully disrupted by mountain rescue teams, the fool was all too wise in knowing not all mountains were so naϊve. on a cloudless, sunny morning, brisk air enlivened the colorful prayer flags watching over the climbers like angels. the fool and climbers were talking through the steam of their coffee when a th

each of us is a song, a melodic symphony of harmony and disharmony, love and heartache, certainty and uncertainty. each with a beginning. each with a middle. each with an end. but we, too, are the composers; in our hand, is the power to wield a masterpiece.          so i ask you then---          what will it be?          a rendition?          or an original? ::: there is something nearer to you than your fingerprint--- branded nearest to your being; when one knows of true presence, one might cry at the sight of his own soul. ::: you are the sun and i, the moon. we are different, but we are complements; you make me shine, and i allow you to sleep. ::: remember, when our toughest mountains are conquered, they become jagged hills, sizable mounds, large elevations, dime-sized dots pinched between our fingers. persistence, perspective, and time due conquer the toughest climbs. ::: i drank from the Fountain of Folly. the slurred speech of my heart knew better than to love with its eyes close