Back Fall 2022 When the moon hangs high above the tower of our memories and reflects shining and pure on the rivers below - New and old become one beacon of intuition. and hearts and minds finally merge. The illumination is so sudden and blinding it hurts to hold a pen, but if you listen closely you can still hear it scratching away on the pad. No longer a rushing, frightened scrawl, it all just unfolds accordingly. The final and greatest method of creation is being love. Becoming the poem, becoming free. Blank page I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I am loving awareness. I left my indecision at the crossroads of the monsoon culminating in lost wisdom and hidden understanding of which the depths stood high and churning crashing down into a swirling solitude embracing my feet in a warm circle of reparation I wish I knew it then that I shouldn't wish for anything cause it all slips right through my soggy fingers and I just don't have the reflexes to catch this continuous stream of sound and memory and body place time and sound. And so I just write it down, write it down write it down. I've been here before and I never will again the smell of sweat in the train station when I first got here I could see it all stretching out Now I've been here for months and I've been here for months already on the first day I saw it all Now why am I surprised? I'm not sad I'm just disorganized and confused... I Know What I Need To Do But I'm Holding Too Many Objects And I'm Paralyzed Even Though All I Need To Do Is Take Some Time To Put It Down And Reorganize To Know Thyself one must be willing to turn their focus away from external factors and look deeply within. Years go by, we age, we change. Our hair grows longer, our opinions become nuanced, our personailities shift with each cycle of the moon. These are all external factors which hide us from the true self within. In order to know ourselves, we must become familiar with the unchanging, the eternal, the infinite. What is it within us that never changes? What part can you experience that lasts forever? This is the place of truth where we must place all our chips. Making the bet on truth, and not transient personality, emotions, identity, and attachments, we can allow ourselves to make the best possible decisions when dealing with the present, which will accumulate into the future. The best question to ask ourselves when we are concerned with the future is - how can we concern ourselves with the here and now? And concerning ourselves with the here and now requires understanding of our own selves. Knowing ourselves, we will know how to be in the present, and the answers to questions of the future will adequately present themselves. Glinting sun, reflecting on something tall and elusive... hardly! It's right there! I can touch the light with my eyes. Just a glance and I'm transported directly to the crossroads of shadow and reality. Wherever I look, whenever I exist, in whatever form my theories define... the sun sets everyday. I could hardly trust the ramblings of my past because they scream in definitions - even when describing how transient it is or anything of the like - how sure it all sounds, how absolutely certain "I" (or perhaps words in general) am (are) of what my experience entails. I know it all and can't help but yelling it at the top of my lungs, and everytime everything flips upside down or falls totally out of focus, what a surprise! It's entertaining, convincing myself how real it all is. Or maybe I just can't stand uncertainty... I might fake my death like my professor did I might rearrange all my plans I might go drive out to the mountains Well I might as well just play pretend Cause if I gave up on my writing I might never make amends And I'm a fool to think the choice is mine This is a song that never ends I might just go and live my life There's no running out of time Cause when I sing a song nothing's ever wrong Everything I know is in my sight Using poetry to excuse my in- excusable actions But What am I gonna do? Change? Laying on the grass or a bench and closing my eyes long enough to be surprised that there is a completely new mosaic of clouds in the sky when I open them. The actors all quit years ago They've all been hiding backstage There's still only one member in the audience I think I know his name Home