Morning Trip (98)

“Whispers in the Wind

Your whispers are gentle echoes
that sway ardent winds of harmony
and in the symphony of life
each word is wrapped in rhapsody.

We travel separate roads of life
gather flowers along the way and
share the music of their fragrance.

We exist between two winds,
I here under a pale moon
you, the other end of somewhere.

Sometimes when wind blows through trees
I pause to listen and in its passing
I hear the tenderness of your voice
that fills the spectrum of my soul.

You are the chime of warm rain,
the moon that glows through the trees
and within the luster of evening
your aura fills the scene.

I hear the whispers of the wind
see the stars shine in the sky,
but I hold the sunrise in my pocket.

Dance with me within the wind,
then just let me love you.”
–Trent Moore

Morning Trip (50)

“The man who promises everything is sure to fulfil [sic] nothing, and everyone who promises too much is in danger of using evil means in order to carry out his promises, and is already on the road to perdition.
Carl Jung”

“The road to perdition has ever been accompanied by lip service to an ideal.
Albert Einstein”

And now this, to express the other morning ponderers within…
“The early hours of morning; you still aren’t writing (rather, you aren’t even trying), you just read lazily. Everything is idle, quiet, full, as if it were a gift from the muse of sluggishness,

just as earlier, in childhood, on vacation, when a colored map was slowly scrutinized before a trip, a map promising so much, deep ponds in the forest like glittering butterfly eyes, mountain meadows drowning in sharp grass;

or the moment before sleep, when no dreams have appeared, but they whisper their approach from all parts of the world, their march, their pilgrimage, their vigil at the sickbed (grown sick of wakefulness), and the quickening among medieval figures

compressed in endless stasis over the cathedral; the early hours of morning, silence — you still aren’t writing,

you still understand so much. Joy is close.”
– Adam Zagajewski
Without End

Joy within, even in Perdition.