With what one has, one attempts the infinite
Only to fall on one's face
One fails to realize that one does not own anything save for one's perception:

Eyes, ears, and heart;
No hands to steer, to grasp, to create

Pull the thread and realize that it's woven more tightly than you could ever imagine. A couple of loose strings won't yield you a better sweater than the one you've already had.

One sure can be stupid at times

Angels

A cluttered canvas is purified with white as bits of the heavens dance in front of my eyes
And rest upon my head and jacket.
The cold, with the sincerest of tough love, whips and kisses my face,
To remind me of all that I have to be grateful for.
This brutality is true beauty-- that which reveals to you just how blessed you are.
My worn boots tread carefully on the frozen walkway
Towards home.

Providence gladly shown upon her
And as naturally as the plant drinks the rain,
She accepted her place-- the call delegated to her
Knowing fully the obstacles ahead.
This did not shake her
As she knew to accept what was meant to be
Apart from what she may have otherwise feared.

Pain comes, Fear attacks, Age cripples
We lose the ones we love

But these are as a tree shedding its leaves
Winter sets, but the tree doesn't die
It lives despite these ravages to share its joy in Spring, crowned in green
When the world basks in glory and life.

O Time,
With what wonder have you grown this leaf
And allowed it to flourish on the oak?
With what wisdom have you dropped it to the ground,
Dried and brilliant with fiery hue?
-
Leave not this vessel to so soon wither
Rather—bestow it to the breeze,
Allow it accompaniment with its kin
To eventually reach a meaningful end

As warmth and light in the hearth.

I stood in the serenity of the beach at night, with the absence of artificial light. Awestruck, I beheld a luminescence -- and thought about humanity's best to improve one's vision in the darkness. It was there that it was revealed to me what folly it is to attempt to light what has already been lit. Billions of stars and the reflective white sand allow one to see beyond what is registered through rudimentary orbs.

Reminiscence

Three years.
Time is going a thousand miles an hour, anymore.
Rain falls and puddles dry leaving little to no trace that they were ever there.
Trees fall, and water erodes everything to create the world anew.
Longing for new grounds in this vast and changing landscape, I still find myself longing for home.
And traces remain, to the joy of my heart.
I look to the mountaintops and see these things that I still hold so dear, standing unblemished despite the land's ravage.

Today I took a trip to one of these monuments and reveled in the unbridled joy of having once called this my home, my place in the world that I had only for some mysterious preordination been fortunate to have resided.
I moved my hands across the smooth stone surfaces and read the words that had been etched there, recalling familiar phrases such as "no one else understands like that," "there's a reason," and "I still do," or even "When we're thirty- five."
My hand stopped as I retraced with my finger along the words: "I love you."

I walked down the path back once again to the land below to continue to explore, till, and build upon it, with this heat and the cool shade of the peaks above.

The world changes and I am not naive-- there is still many a thing to do and we have many paths to take. It is possible, though our paths have come so close more than once in these last three years, that they may never converge again save for today. But on the days when the sun beats down or whenever you reminisce, look just over the treeline to that mountain where the shade is and the words are etched. I still do.

I pushed the button

Well, well.

After lots of time not posting anything, I decided to kill off Randomdannytime and start from scratch. I wanted to keep the address, so I grabbed it up again after deleting the blog. Stay tuned-- I may post more in the future.