Tagged: breathe
Fly.
Musical Monday, featuring Mario Darianelli.
The Call – Everest.
Setting off from Kathmandu – Everest.
Dont forget to check out http://www.gevros.etsy.com for great cards, poetry, stickers, and other inspirational tidbits!
From the Vault.
Originally posted on 1-7-12, with music.
What is flesh, but a creation?
A limited fuse lit by an unseen hand-
Can it heal?
Yes.
Can it grow?
Yes,
and we don’t have to lift a finger.
What is flesh, but a wrapper,
a covering-
much like a candy bar,
or a tiny mint-
a mask for something more defined
and complex-
a shirt for our thoughts,
socks for our feelings,
a jacket for our innermost workings-
we can spend years crying tears of all
colors,
or smiling moonlit smiles…
with or without the courage to move
forward, or backward,
with or without the strength to stand on
current ground.
What is flesh, but a creation-
what is creation, but a thought turned into
action-
and action, a collection of concerted
effort-
it heals,
it grows,
and all we have to do is continue to
breathe.
The sun…it always shines*
-G. Boston
From the Vault.
From the Vaults.
Originally posted on 12-11-13, this piece depicts the destructive and regenerative powers of earth, implying that beauty and strength can be found in all situations.
Earth, for all its beauty, is intent on its
own sustained destruction.
home grown demolition, fierce and consistent
and severe.
whirling winds and pulverizing plate shifts;
barbaric waves and the terrifically brutal spew of molten
agony
painting the landscape like a spirited artist with a palette of
hot orange,
black billowing smoke,
and fire.
the earth is angry-
that’s just one point of view-
a living mass of bound and shackled energy
bursting within
itself in a magma soaked rage,
the personification of angst and frustration with
no outlet but fury,
the elements of its true core still a mystery-
organically sustained destruction,
yet still fulfilling a predetermined purpose.
for each disaster, there are a thousand
seeds in bloom-
for each reaving of the landscape, there
are innumerable discoveries in waiting,
each exit creating a new beginning.
there is no end to its regeneration-
earth-
the great tortured soul,
the original self-immolator,
the flagellator of the ages,
concealing its guts with such a beautiful
mask-
stoned relentlessly for eons,
battered by its own children,
a lone voice among silent brothers,
eloquently patching over the steaming turmoil
boiling underneath-
earth-
take notes in her symbols-
But where is hope, then?
in the bowels of the sea,
in the claustrophobic canals worming through
the core,
in the depth of the blue above,
each revealing signs of perseverance,
adaptation,
evolution,
and the ability to overcome-
take notes in her symbols-
in the wooden arms and rustling
fingers of the winter trees,
pointing the way to heaven for those whose
eyes have been downcast too long-
for those who’ve forgotten which way to
look-
but again, that’s just one point of view*
-G. Boston
7-17-16
5-24-16 + Gone With Leaves
5-12-16







