There’s this thing that isn’t really there…

You somehow know it after a while.

Hangs out like an unwanted friend.

Like a favorite shirt that’s out of style.

I saw quite clearly yesterday.

Had some sleep. Woke up today.

Heard the nails on that chalkboard.

Then, like magic, you fade away.

I don’t know what’s on the horizon.

I’m not surprised by much anymore.

You said a lot and had your say.

No one has been listening like before.

I had to choose, so I chose work.

I felt too inadequate for love; too poor…

I didn’t go willingly, nooooooo!

However in the end it was wisest of choices.

Being a romantic gets you lost in feelings…

I have found it is better to be trusted than loved.

The problem is not that you lied.

The problem is that I can’t trust you again.

The problem is that I held you above the masses and now you are just among the herd, grazing, shitting, complaining; or whatever it is your lot does down there…

The Fever broke at at midnight.

I was naked and in sweats.

Not a terribly pretty picture.

But for now as good as gets.

I don’t get sick that often.

There’s a tickle with the cough.

The alarm is set mid-morning.

More bad dreams and then I’m off.

Tolkien’s Night

Paul Fournier called and he’s shutting down THE ART STUDIO!!

Paul is in his 80’s and this day and call were INEVITABLE…

I am not sad, strangely; however I will miss ALL OF IT.

Paul, painting, talking with Paul, being with ZYLIA painting…

The kindest, most talented, most humble CHRISTIAN MAN I HAVE EVER MET.

WHAT A WONDERFUL LIFE EXPERIENCE THIS HAS BEEN. THANK YOU PAUL FOURNIER. 😊 💓

The shit storm came as advertised.

It said “It’s not my first.”

I knew my words had lost their way.

With few blessings for the cursed.

The umbrella store had closed her doors.

The winds did blow and gust.

Change was ripe and felt like rain.

Which settled in the dust.

With her eyes upon horizons.

I thought, ‘Best to ride it out.’

There is Golden in that silence.

And there never was a doubt.