Told to say

"Do you mind that I am a rock in the flow of your consciousness?"

Deconstructing music

The inner workings of music are a mysterious puzzle.

Sometimes I think "ignorance is bliss" and feel the temptation to leave the music box shut for fear that, once opened, all of the gears and beauty would come rushing out into the world and that I'd be left with naught but confusion in the box.

Reason prevails, so I set aside superstition and fables, take apart the music box, put it back together, and it works the same as it did before, but I'm no closer to understanding music.

So for now I'll just give the key another spin.

Worldplay

The trickster weaves words into webs, watch as they ride the whirlwind and fade away. In the end nothing but the intent behind the words remains, but until then it makes for a pretty show.


  






There are games to be played and words to weave.
There are stories to be told and illusions to be cast
like bittersweet memories to the sea.

An arabesque of smoke

Gaily, they chase after the ephemeral mirages that the whispering winds wrought in the smoke of a candle now extinguished.

Looming

An ethereal dream weaver rides a dead sun drifting in the vastness of the cosmos.
All stars shelter a single rider. But many of these riders tether themselves to one another to fly together for finite periods of time.
The dream weaver flies alone and at times casts lines of woven dreams at the quiet twinkle of passing stars, hoping in spite of knowledge…

Nascent

He realized, as he walked into the kitchen, that someone had left the world on. He tsked and went to the fridge, opened it and crawled inside. The door slowly swung shut and automatically shut off the world. There he stayed 9 months and 9 days and came out in search of a sandwich.