My Quill Time

The old legend says; After creating the universe the gods wondered where too hide the truth. Should they hide the truth on the highest mountain, or at the bottom of the sea or maybe on the dark side of the moon. Finally they decided to hide the truth, in the heart of a man. They figured he will look everywhere never suspecting it to be deep within his heart. GOD BLESS YOU MAY ALL BE WELL WITH YOU DMD 

“SOLACEVILLE" Sound and Silence, live in,     “Solaceville “ They are like night and day. Each one of them is in us, but not without us. Some call them opposite twins, different but always together. Side by side, step by step, one after the other, like two shadows. They follow humanity from birth to the grave, So where does one's quest lead us from here? Depends what you crave for, sound, silence or little bit of both. Remember, too much of one or too little of another will send you in the arms of another. So we all seek that joyous path that leads to solaceville. Some try to find it in the deep forest, some far from cities Humanity, seeks the healing of what has hurt our psyche. Remember your birth journey from the water world to this one. Well it hurt your mother and it must have registered something in your mind, of what you both went through and look at the strong bond you have with your mother. And your journey has just started, a...

DEDICATED TO SANDY A GREAT REPRIEVE FROM MY GRIEF THAT I COME TO SEE MY LOVE ONCE AGAIN. THE SUN SHINES A BIT BRIGHTER AND THE RAIN DOES NOT MATTER, AS I DROP IN FROM THE MONSOON SKY. AS DUSK FADES AWAY, THE SLEEPY MOON COMES GENTLY AWAKE, LIKE A MEDALLION,  ON THE BOSOM OF MY LOVE. IT CALLS ME, IT BECKONS ME TO ITS SWEET EMBRACE. AS WE MEET, WE DON’T ACCUSE OR COMPLAIN, THE HOUR GLASS STILL RUNS AND HERE COMES TOMORROW. FLEETING MOMENTS WE STEAL FROM LIFE ARE OURS TO KEEP. WE SHARE NONE OF THESE TREASURES,WITH OTHERS AS THEY OURS TO KEEP. THERE ARE NO CLOCKS IN THIS HOUSE OF LOVE, NO OIL LAMPS TO GUIDE MY TENDER FAMILIAR LOVE. LITTLE DO WE CARE ? PASSION KNOW NO BOUNDS PASSION IS ALL WE KNOW AND WE MOAN FOR EVER MORE, THAT’S ALL, WE HAVE TO SAY. God Bless You May all be well with you DMD

DEDICATED TO SANDY: I CLOSE MY EYES FOR A QUIET REPOSE AND THERE YOU ARE NEAR ME. I OPEN MY EYES YOU ARE NOT CLOSE TO ME BUT HOW SWEET IS YOUR SCENT, THAT LINGERS HOW TENDER IS THE MEMORY OF YOUR GENTLE TOUCH . YOUR TONGUE IS STILL FULL OF HONEY…… COME A SHORE FROM THIS CLOUD OF DREAMS, WHY DO YOU DWELL IN MY MEMORIES OF OLD …? COME ACROSS THIS CHASM WE SHARE, AND LET US DREAM TOGETHER BECAUSE WE CARE. MEMORIES OF OUR LOVE ARE MANY AND ARE EASY TO BEAR. TILL WE MEET AGAIN… God Bless You May all be well with you DMD

My thoughts, observations & pixels on the glass canvas of this world that still revolves, and evolves around me, it make me do the blog dance. When and if I do get off this crazy merry go round, I do the blog dance, I rush to pluck the feathers from a swan, unfold some papyrus from a tree, and fill my well with ink to wet my quill. Well then, my thoughts come tumbling down and the quill dances with the ink on the blog floor as the paper is parched and yearns for more and more. So dance, your blog dance, let your feather tickle your quill and your papyrus be always thirsty for you. God Bless You May all be well with you DMD

The young are the bravest and most fool hardy as they give this most precious gift of life freely, on a whim, or for a cause they do not understand. The old hold on to this gift of life with both hands and fight every inch of the way. They never let any cause, or fantasy takes this gift of life away. They delay or prevent of that what is coming, on that fateful day, the last hour, where ever it may be, in the departure lounge at a hospital, or the airport , or a bed near you. While the young march bravely forward to embrace the end and become canon fodder, while the old just compensate Ceasar for his war effort. God Bless You May all be well with you DMD

“NO THANKS” I don’t want the Eastern Times or the weekender for free, either for myself or for my neighbors. We have read enough dispatches from the handmaiden, of the three branches of service. As there is no news that’s fit to print and the fabrication of truth and lies is an art form, this must be the graduate program, from an online non-accredited college. Going green must spell disaster for the print media??? Above all never trust the Editor. God Bless You May all be well with you DMD