52 rolls

“Even the sea cant stop me from writing something to read in my old age…”
                                                                                   – Kerouac, Big Sur

It takes forever to get anywhere. Dreaming and thinking have temporalities that hardly ever seem to be hastened. It is not as if the mind ever reaches its destination, it always is restless to move on, or be haunted by persistent themes. Walking through forests and woodlands, rustling leaves, creaking branches and bird calls keep me alert, but hardly stop these cogitations. In the shade of twisted branches along the trail I wander hoping to reach the end. Although my ears are wide open, sounds and sensations, never seem to stop or satisfy, or overcome the relentless search of consciousness to defeat the stimulations of pain. Hurt, both physical and psychological, is hard to end. Time was, but now I am getting older.

At the crest of a ridge, suddenly…

View original post 160 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s