Bridges and Balloons - The Decemberists
The world is always changing.
People care so deeply during the seconds problems ride the airwaves.
And yet, for the observant, it becomes a question of whether people can care at all beyond what they’re told.
No matter where you are: in your mind, your feet, your heart, your stomach–don’t forget about the flowers.
They bloom for you.
Act one for Emarosa is done.
Taking a break for the summer to work on music and enjoy such needed daddy-daughter time.
Enjoy your summer. Kiss someone you love. Embrace someone you don’t.
“The Prolepsis of Ink & Grumble”
Trees sway in the distance.
Or at least they’re distant, it seems.
Towering above, or have we fallen too low, to be shrouded by so many leaves.
Ink, the ebon imp, grumbles at his misfortune.
For anything that’s not so clearly opportune must be cursed.
Then again, for an imp, it’s hard not to be.
Clouds lord over their sky, stealing away the beauty of stars we were promised.
It’s as if fate colludes to garner the rights on felicity.
Fortunately for us, there had been her.
Anesidora alone remembers when her name was just a name.
Along with the smell of rich cedar wood early in the morning as the man she called her father braided her hair.
The world’s greatest anathema was someone’s daughter, too.
The crashing of the waves before nightfall signals of the end of days (or at least today).
An onyx blanket lies itself over the sleeping beach.
And not a soul will ever know; the tide washes it all away.
A fat, runty orc stuffs its face with the foulest of greases it can find.
People are runnin’ and screamin’ like they’ve lost their minds.
The gettin’ is good when the gettin’ is good.
The fragrance on the breeze curdles, becoming something unworthy of expressing scent.
Things that were clear turn opaque, like trying to spell with an alphabet of 37 tar-mucked letters.
And then they were there: the imp, the fabulist, the orc.
Whether it’s the beginning of the world or the end,
To a mayfly it’s all the same.
Hardships will come and hardships will go, but our loves and stories shall remain.