Over Field And Glen 1994/02/08

Run free with the wind in the fielded glen. Fast as a cloud with a few minutes over a valley to spend. Then rest beneath a few trees with hints of azure skies above the boughs. Or bathe in the cool of mountain streams during spring thaws. For such occurrences I bodily strive. Bound through nature’s eternal struggle with happenstance.

To keep my life I write, I sing. I fly as in a dream with birds on a wing. An augury of flight. Innocents of the night. With our lives like ritual and a foreboding sense of might. Where we will land to the predator there is given no clue. Simply a fact that this story continues later is true.

Demotic Incalibri

Humane reliques of the earth’s sovereign past. What hear you of these things in the modern theatre? Are the children as bereft of honest charge as the carbon copies? Will the exhumed gold and silver ever get back to rocking and rolling in the turn of the soya count. Dwindling remnant of bones. The contained. The remittent to the even flow of things being tied.

An inhibition to say 💭 things vulgar or not competent in the rhetorical schools foundling. A certain distaff of effective trepidation. How the long going frequency of knits and assuages makes out in the meticulous banter of birds. A gathering coming to the North and its dawn. Fastidious displays of leadership and non sequitur. Each indelible peace in the histories of a nation getting up off of its knees. To embrace the weak forces of nature and say 💭 that Mother belongs on the main. Giving respite to those whose call 📱 goes not unheard.

Commingling in the effervescence of ryman tropes and current metaphors. All glad the ship 🚢 is not sinking. All bayofully at scratch with their devils. Making way in the trades of the music. A grand and verbal contentment in the acclaim amongst the tables of roundabout friends. Each good fellow and glam doll rolling on the crest of the waves that beat on the shore outside.

A Summer house not much fit for Winter’s pasturing. Often the nearest occupant is a dusty ghost. Making out his day on the back of a couch. Meals, rest, and entertainment. Each portion of the day boiling up together into a fust of appetites. Those favorable memories in the mindful exchange of greetings between passerbys.

The quarry of asides deems hesitation break for the wing out upon the tarmac. Its green Sunshine refledged in each clover found to bear its four lucky leaves. A pile of salient drawn salts. The digs of a roving mendicant. Making out garret and grot to the season and the clement weather’s train. An obfuscate and trembling now couched citizen. Gregariously close to the vanity of the lady in her arts. She does not wish to sing alone. An entire choir of the angels making progress out upon the waves. Headed for that furthest ignoble shore. With seed and stamina the new land meets expectations and the olden horn is blown to remember those whose tread fell before this shift of carbon.

This sign of the spiritual throw. With the momentum of a loose flying goose the beautiful and the emblazoned in a rapping flag comes down to a mire of resorts and treats. Withal the blessed pension of a midlander keeping a verbal sentiment in time. For the wait is a look back over one’s shoulder and a barrier with out needing diverse concomitant to hold the hand of the cantor. If we can simply release the bear from the trap. If it were no emboldened goof that limited the exclusion into subsequent divestures. And so the glade is made glad in renewed wander through the dance. Stages in the phases and character roles of a tramping and well spoken crewe.

Fellow friends in an accustomed gate. The North end of the city proper. Where the organic food trucks come into the market space on the square. Near the warehouse that have been refurbished into living lofts and organized corpus of indemnity and the good book 📗 to crow by.

A better dursted landsman into his continence and sharing withal. Concurring streams in the operators style. A realization of a gone 🏠 despondancy in the rising Sun. With bluebirds singing of their happiest schtick about the shrubs and groves that turn from garden to plot. A liberty to wear a new t-shirt and turn the old one into a rag. The best handle on the jug keeps a cork in it. And the olde hound forgets the bitterness of her more frugal appetites. Lets on that she is no more a chaser of rabbits and their tails. Now she wanders behind the child to see him his way down to the schoolyard where the child will bid her take her leave and go. A saunter and a saserdotal memory for the each of them to go by.

K

Kilimanjaro, Killington, the big K. Food as stepping to the big time. Skunked out. Goes further. On a VW microbus in the 70th reign of an old codger. Tramps and homebodies make exchange out of turnovers’ throe and the gauntlet of an idle caste into cold lounging Thebian Democrats.

Reading up on the precipitous designs of some Wintertime haunts. Slave papers of the Federalist broadside. Truth be knowing, or rather the persuasive glam disreputers of the qualm surfieting backdoor of proper sensibilities. Peradventure amongst the conquest of lies. Those suicidal trappings of almost or not quite good enough. Maybe you had better. So don’t try that again.

If the length of day in a given season’s countenance were to get down to business. Were to propitiate in the realm of constancy. Gave up the number of lost sheep to the sorrows of the shepherdess. With her spirits in ascension and the night offset by the relative darkness of unconscious knowledge. A way of precluding the alms satiety of being prepared by the wellness of sleep.

A manner of exercising in the house of dreams. Finding those functional and elavating nuances of the word and its relative frames of reference. Resulting in the accents and conditional quality of those terms patios and divergent. An open door to the daybreaking ahead.

The Eastern primacy of having gleened proper rest from the depth of field accomplished in an eight hours long bedstay. Drawn through quarters fit for dream reveries and lowdown decisiveness of consistency. The morning dew and those dramatic urges of the spiritual cast into the hourly sands making their way through the glass of a welcome night’s keeping.

When the day remits the progression of a rising Sun to the congress of what is a lot like kicking up the dust to make hazy the gathern light. Between blue morning and rosy Sunset the mind does tend to its weal. The body also must have needs gain its impetus. Extending welcome to those things of worthy exercise and the accomplishment of works.

Emotions on the side of the heart that turn the tide of physical constitution and earned completeness of an otherwise foundling figure. Also, to make a day out for the good and fulfilled, there is the quest of spirit. Be it a blessing of the Angels for their God or a recouperation of over exertion in the field of bodily rigorous and doubty awareness.

And of what does this stem? This mindfulness of those things advantageous and fruitful. Contemporary in the continued state of peace. Willingness determined by regularity of gait and foment of thoughts upon the sharing of the family tide. A moral aside and the rest of passive entities in the later days rank and file comprehension of those things learned by craft and given to care and by lore of rote.

I will save my chiding of the unresponsive diaspora for its own sake. Let the post know that there are refutations upon the score of the leaden weighted waters. That there is a scism and a stigma between the feats of Mother Nature and those unnatural tendencies to try and make propitiate an unyielding religion.

To worship a God in heaven to me seems the best way to surrender my soul to the rising and falling tide of a practice made out of prayer. Moving forward afield and very far in the daily processional of time and its capacity to make out the liberal turns of its touch with human agency.

Within this church of the earthly matters. This proud Mother of the legions of Earth. She is many faces of beauty and familiar discernment is her vast memory of the way things once were and how best they might also be brought to fruitfulness once again. By the limn and deskry of her peace, her nature, her clear ides of the middle path.

That is no onus. I say the mark of a fool cannot too long go without the notice of its parentage. If they in their role remain faithless know that the condition is really much worse. It is not truly that they are alack. It is really rather that they are a quire full of many consuming beasts.

Out of my earshot and ready to stop the presses until they and their paper tigers, their paper and fire, is just as quick mete with its remove. The word, you sense, is an old and humbled matter of typical things. The reason for liberty in its experience, for exercise in its creative measures, and for conclusion in the leading tones of its more impractical discords.

It avails all, none the less, in the simplist way to stem from praise, from fear, from experience, and from the storying tendencies of repeating its understandable means. By occasion and lesson and to a considerum at bouts with speech in making acclaims outright unto statements of desire and want of beauty. The commiserate levity bound in an incorrigible manner of a culumny to wit. Baubles of that which betides in the carolous fallacies of too much to go by.

The futile judgements of prayer. The tried over and crass notion that what becomes is at best a state of the estranged and lucky. The beat and the dread. The devil and his folly. Mi thinks a ring like that is hands down shared by the many over the few. The parallel against the spoil of loath. A lord beknownst unto sound commitment of conscious, current, and glad triage of days. Port of call and beck of downs respite lacking dodge.

Within the realm of most folks the ‘raison de etre’ is a unique concept. It becomes clearer when one realizes, when one is coaxed, when one is taught the understanding that we have a good hand in our own fate. That we are not bent, that from birth on any progressively inclusive means of raising our spirits and our children and ourselves out of the primordial soup of time manifested and life encapsulated instancy.

A system of relating one to another or in a group setting a cast of players in the guise of costume preparing and acting out the nature and elavating the notions of a determined and estelliate sense of meanings. Through the agency of its players in the most capable manner of an acquired practice.

We are not alone in our cosmic interplay of good times and hard fate. We are simply being taxed by the efforts of those others whom will not just take care to take care of themselves and out of the business and livelihood of a regular and empassioned crewe of conceivably infinite beings.

Whether we are looking straight to our fore or we have compromised our situation. Must we be bid our remove at least? This unto the general condition of consensus values. That it can be ellucidated upon and we can believe in the ability to think for ourselves. Let us seek out confidantes and have the need for a mutually resciprosperous call to respect ourselves and others in an equal and well tempered conservation. Called for as our very same individual and personally attributive existences can go on and continue to prove to be true unto ourselves, our loved ones, our community and the nation.

World renown is best left to the ages. The tide of folklorico in the histrionics of a plaintive tadoo. Given to the muse and welcome unto the uprising of youth. Gerrymandering of the suit. A gilded splinter left haywire. Finding relief only in those same sands of time that the hourglass itself remains to continue to behold.