“Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great, which made all the nations drink the maddening wine of her immorality.”
How much of our writing is put forth into the world without any of us knowing how the other will receive it. So many souls jabbing the night with their steely knives, oblivious to the dusty rooms within themselves, and the darken hallways that connect them. Driven on through impulse and fancy without resting to see how these forces work, while strategic marketers plague our arteries with delicious thought candy, a slow poisoning wine that keeps the economic beast gainfully employed in its operation. Hearts lose warmth as their fibers shrink back into an isolating tempest. Our words empty of its potential, and shallowly stretch over a desert without even a trace of moisture. What is the purpose of all this blogging if we fail to connect with others and what will it profit me if my letters should sputter around your imagination without an opportunity to sprout; that my ideas might embellish your mind with beauty as yours do mine. May death smother me in its relentless grip if my logos should fail to penetrate the cold dark of night, and by the dog rip me asunder so as to at least fill the belly of appetite; for what good am I now that winters destitute has frozen me in stagnation; that long stony look of Medusa has brought such ugliness into our world of magnitude and miracles. For those of you who still breathe and have your movement in becomingness, will you not enter my song and make it your own this once… Then click here or on the image above to experience this poet transform his words into love.