Fables and Revelations

I decided since it was hard to keep a pet being away from home I'm going to do what my great grandmother do all day long and start growing some plants but not just any plants. I'm going to work on some beans and if I can keep it up I'll start growing some herbs like rosemary, thyme and even basil if I could. Strange enough I was walking home when I decided to check out the new Emmarah that had reopened a couple of shops down from their old location and it was beautifully done up. They had dates and figs and mixed dried fruits, oats, wheat and even Beans! So beans to you, I decided to buy some beans with the couple of coins I had in my wallet. That was practically all I had really, so I packed some tiny petite little mung beans into my brown paper bag and listen to them fall into the bag with skidadles and pops. Then I picked up some beautiful chubby little happy Adzuki beans that look so perfectly bean like and flawless in shape. A cold smooth maron red shell with a fairly ...

The town seemed a hushed silence as people stared out at the rubble blackened by the Saturday’s blaze, which engulfed the aged old historian who has watched for two centuries the cities past. The a doleful sense of forlorn whispered in the wind as onlookers stretched their necks like seagulls at the wharf to acquire a better look at the rubble that remains of what was once a city ancient. It doesn’t seem to have gone, as I seem to see myself still in it when I close my eyes, the breath of air, a calm that surrounds when I close my eyes. The soft excitement when I touch the round hard case carrier bag in delight. Now I can only search for it as it is no more and only ashes remain. Watching the bellowing smoke rise like a dragon into the sky, I gazed in awe and it continued to churn and rise and grow in size. I took a couple of snap shots of the rubble this afternoon and what was left of this timeworn soul that lay crumbling under the force of the bulldozers. Breathing in the desolation ...

I look into the sky and wonder what really makes sense, life so imperfect like a little black spot in the sun. Dreaming of places that I have left and joys that cannot be. Gasping for answers for dreams unfulfilled, the wind is exactly the same as yesterday. Spring spins another intricate web of beauty, another tale, another time, of life’s ceaseless heaven bound beauty and godlike wonder. Is life meant to be conceptual simplicity and structural complexity, or is it destiny to remain undefined?