there’s a quiet peace in
love-
i enjoy what it represents-
there’s a subtle depth
in the expression-
a touching breath
so delicate that it can dissipate like
a dandelion gone to seed-
so strong that it could overtake
any wall-
there’s a quiet strength in
love-
a truth so prevalent-
a reality so stark-
a still room in spring-
silent with the calm of
the comfort that comes with
a smile upon waking-
knowing that there’s a quiet peace in
love*

there’s something about the way the sun
hits in fall-
there’s something about the clarity-
the opaque fullness of the light-
that cleanses me-
there’s a mystery in that light-
a question waiting for an
answer-
it’s the starting line for the road
ahead-
the green light-
the reason-
it pushes me gently-
like a parent nudges a willing
child-
it fills me-
like a freshly drawn breath-
it becomes me-
and i beam with it-
bright,
and clear,
and calm-
i move and it fills just enough
of my shadow to let me know
that there’s more to me
than what’s visible-
there’s a clarity yet to be discovered-
a mystery-
a question-
there’s something about the way the
sun hits in the fall-
it’s the starting line for the road
ahead*

i can’t deny that my thoughts are
fueled by words-
letters are my foundation-
memories are my source-
like an adventurous expedition-
my brain leads my hand into the
wild-
like a rough hewn guide-
it directs the way-
i won’t deny that my thoughts are
fueled by words-
i must admit that i am directed
by wayward imaginations-
distant urges-
and constant yearnings-
they made me who i was-
they’ve allowed me to be who
i am-
and they will inevitably mold me
into who i need to be*

The poetry in this piece is stellar; the voice, velvet.  Arthur Prysock was truly one of a kind.  Enjoy this track; words by Walter Benton published in 1949, album performed by Prysock in 1968.

The poetry in this piece is stellar; the voice, velvet. Arthur Prysock was truly one of a kind. Enjoy this track; words by Walter Benton published in 1949, album performed by Prysock in 1968.

the water runs blue-
the clean, cool waters that you
see in pictures
of hidden beaches
and lost islands-
the water runs blue in places that
are untouched-
the water runs blue in places that
have not been affected by an
unkind hand-
by an unthoughtful visitor-
the water runs blue when it’s allowed
to flourish-
to thrive-
alone, and without the interruption
of doubt-
no walls can contain its fervor-
no command will make it stop-
no emotion will dry its core-
the water runs blue when it’s left
alone-
but it’s properly enjoyed when it’s
respected-
cultivated-
and explored thoroughly-
it runs blue when its freedom isn’t
stifled-
it runs blue when it’s just allowed
to be*

there was a basement that i used
to sit in-
during the middle years of my
college days-
i would draw pictures and write notes
between classes-
gaze out the window-
at passing people-
at leaves rustling in the
october wind-
of robins floating along blue
february afternoons-
at the march rain as it pounded against
the glass-
i was a younger man then-
and these elements brought me
closer to those individual days-
they forced me to experience every
minute as it passed-
they allowed me to savor every
second-
when i think back, it’s almost as if
those happenings occurred in slow
motion-
there were so many-
but i realize now that it’s because
every little second was recorded-
every instance was consumed and
well spent-
because i knew then i was being pulled
by the clock-
i knew then that i was guided by its
hands-
i was a younger man then-
and those elements brought me
closer to those individual days-
those elements brought me closer
to myself*

the sun is a bright spot in our galaxy-
the brightest spot-
the one place that all other
objects inevitably face-
the all important element that the solar system
aligns itself to-
this happens naturally-
effortlessly-
no one is turning gears on jupiter-
no one is manning engines on mercury-
no one is housing positioning devices on uranus-
no one is shifting knobs on venus-
but we’re all somehow in tune with this great, shining mass-
this thing of heat and magnitude
that holds us all together-
a radiant mother housing us all in its
womb-
earth may be the golden child,
but it has many siblings-
some are close-
some distant-
some large-
some small-
some warmer than others-
but all obey the commands of that essential bright spot-
all live within the pull of its watch-
and all benefit from its meticulous persistence-
such is life-
we all follow the path set before us-
we all have our bright spots in view-
some of us are golden children among frigid, barren brethren-
others are those lifeless rocks, dreaming of distant life-
but in the end, there is always a bright spot in front of us-
maybe even behind us-
it may be so close that it burns its will into us-
or so far away that it seems impossible to reach-
but it is our job to find it-
and like the sun,
allow it to guide us to our place
of true purpose*

another notch is in my belt-
my waist is getting smaller-
because that belt is getting
tighter-
so many holes-
so many years-
i used to play with big blocks as
a kid-
those giant plastic bricks that used to
fit perfectly together-
i could stack them any way
and they’d remain sturdy-
i could build them high,
and when they fell, they fell
softly-
and i’d laugh as i rebuilt my
wall-
a sliver of the past slips away each
day-
and i’m very aware of it-
i cinch my belt each day
and examine all of the notches that
i’ve created-
all of the experiences-
all of the memories-
that seem so far away-
i try not to live in them-
but they live in me,
so it’s almost unavoidable-
my day is their day-
and my future is partly based
on their existence-
i used to play with giant bricks as
as kid-
i would build them to the sky
and admire them-
and it was never the end
of the world when they fell-
as challenging as it was to erect
my brick forts,
it was never impossible to simply
try again-
and so i did-
and so i have-
and so i will*