Date: May 4, 2024
Random Thoughts
Most physical challenges are just debates you have with yourself about whether you’re going to quit or not
Beneath the starlit cosmic dome, Where whispers of the void find home, An angel glides with feathered grace, A fiery path, she dares embrace. Wings of white, so broad, so light, Lift her through the endless night. Eyes aglow with azure fire, Reflect a soul that won't retire. For in her flight, a silent plea, A battle fought internally, Where muscles ache and breath may sear, She conquers doubt, she sheds her fear. Not flesh nor bone dictate her pace, But will that time cannot erase. Each beat, a drum, it's more than sound, A testament to strength unbound. In every stride, her essence burns, Past limits of what flesh discerns. Her spirit races through the draft, Defies the urge to halt, to raft. No whispered lie, no siren's call, Can tempt her fiery feet to fall. For every challenge, loft or grim, Is but a quiet hymn within. In heated veins, the truth does twirl, The only foe, her own resolve. Her steps ignite the shadowed space, A dance of light, a timeless chase. So let her run, through stars and flame, A testament to the untamed. A phoenix's flight from ashes sprung, With fiery will, forever young.
Date: May 3, 2024
painting
The Starlit Realm
Beneath a bough where colors dance in night, A silent guardian clads in armor bright. Enthroned on roots where whispered secrets lie, A skull observes beneath the starry sky. His helm reflects the cosmos' endless gleam, A warrior resting, lost within a dream. Beside him rests a sword of ancient make, A silent vow no mortal voice can break. The tree of life, with leaves of flame and frost, Sways gently in the realm where none are lost. Around him swirls a cosmos pure and clear, A sentinel of stars, the night's own seer. This visage bold, a blend of leaf and lore, Holds secrets deep, from ancient days of yore. In this still night where stars and spirits sigh, He watches o'er the realms of earth and sky.
Date: May 3, 2024
Random Thoughts
There is no tough enough
In the crucible of flames, a warrior's test, Bound in the ropes of an unyielding quest. Muscles of iron, and heart forged in fire, A relentless pursuit that never does tire. His visage grim, a sentinel tough, Infernos within, yet still not enough Horns of intent, curve to the sky, "Further," he roars, "Before I die." Endless is the path where fate has him bent, Through the flames of trial, his will won't relent. An unspoken mantra, in the blaze, conceived, With each spark that flies, it's silently believed. For in the dance of firelight's embrace, He finds the future, he's sworn to face. A forge of spirit, no respite, no rest, In the flames, he seeks his ultimate test. So brace your spirit, tough as the drill, Beyond the peak, there’s a higher thrill. The warrior’s path, no end to strive, For there's always the blaze that keeps the drive alive.
Date: May 2, 2024
Random Thoughts
Investing in crypto feels like you’re getting paid in dollars while everybody else is getting paid in walnuts
Beneath the copper skies aloft, Where gears and dreams do mesh and soft, A blue-furred tinker works with glee, For nuts, his wage, beneath the tree. With whiskers wide and eyes that gleam, He spins the wheel, lets off some steam, His toil for shells, so hard and round, While others' pockets green abound. In quirky hat, his thoughts do whirl, With cogs and springs, a single pearl, His labor's fruit, in wood-box bound, As world's new coin does most confound. This everyman with fur of teal, Feels weight of change, both odd and real, For what he earns, though earnest got, In market's eye, may count for naught. In sapphire hue, with wrench and wheel, He toils not for the joy or zeal, But necessity, for life's demand, In world where walnuts count as grand. The engine hums, the cogs they spin, A day's wage starts, where dreams wear thin, For in his grasp, the simple seed, Becomes the bread that mouths will feed. Around him coins from circuits sprung, And paper bills from presses flung, Yet in his hand, the nut's firm weight, Speaks of a simpler, steadier state. No joyous dance, nor merry jest, He works because he must, like rest, With steady hand and furrowed brow, The tinker's task is here and now. Each turn of gear, each nut secured, A day's work done, a living assured, No lesser worth in what he holds, In times when data turns to gold. His craft, a means to meet the end, Where walnut worth does not pretend, It's life's exchange, plain and taught, In the tinker's hand, the world's thought.
Date: May 1, 2024
Random Thoughts
Stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean. An island filled with monsters that are the only meat around. As the years pass the island tricks us. It makes us forget true safety exists out there beyond the horizon
On isle of beasts, 'neath the moon's soft gaze, A solitary figure stands, unfazed. Monstrous shadows in the night do weave, Ocean's breath whispers, "Do not grieve." Cloaked in black, against the tide, Among the fiends with nowhere to hide. Yet on this land of tooth and claw, A peculiar comfort, without flaw. Years do wend, and memory fades, Of havens distant, tranquil glades. In peril's clutch, one forgets to yearn, For shores of peace, for which they spurn. Beneath the stars, a truth unspoken, Chains of fear, not easily broken. Yet beyond the dark, past fear's own treason, Lies the path to a brighter season. For even hearts in danger steeped, Have dreams of safety, while they slept. Remember the vastness of the sea, Promises a chance to flee, to be free.
Date: April 30, 2024
Random Thoughts
The world is a chess board and in my own mind I was always the king who’s death meant the end of the game rather than a pawn or any other piece for some other player to use as a sacrifice
In a realm of scarlet skies and ruling night, A sovereign stands, his crown a blazing sight. Clad in rubied armor, a gleam in dark's embrace, His gaze alone commands, a burning, fearsome grace. Within the heart of whispers, where shadows play and bend, A ruler claims the board, a kingdom to defend. No pawn nor knight nor rook, his soul will never yield, For in the mind's grand game, it's he who owns the field. With wisdom's candle held, amidst the strategy and art, He moves through life’s grand chess, a master of his part. His death, not just a loss, but the end of regal dreams, For he's the monarch of his fate, within the cosmic streams. Each piece may have its role, within life’s grand design, But he shall be no less than king, in this vast, checkered line. So ponder now, oh crimson lord, with eyes that fiercely gleam, For only as your own true king, can you command the stream.
Date: April 29, 2024
Random Thoughts
People who get upset over nonsense are simply people who haven’t found their game yet. Once you find your game nothing but the game matters
In a glade where embers dance and leap, Two fae maidens play, no peep. Winged of ice and one of fire, On a stump they quench desire. For their game is all that's real, The burning woods no threat to feel. The flames may lick and forest chars, But the queens and pawns are their true stars. Life's petty squabbles, a far-off dream, While over a checkered field they scheme. The game is all, their hearts' true beat, In its thrall, their bliss complete. For when you find that single aim, That turns life's work into a game, No trivial frets can quake your frame, For nothing matters, but the game.
Date: April 28, 2024
Random Thoughts
There is no greater obstacle to getting ahead than being comfortable where you are
In the depths where shadows play, a creature grand did lay, Upon a throne of twisted swords, a crown atop his head. A ruler of the dark and damp, his subjects gave a cheer, For he was king of all below, the ground above, no fear. In halls of stone, he sat alone, with comfort as his steed, His kingdom vast, his power sure, he felt not want or need. No light of sun to urge him forth, to conquer realms unseen, For in the grip of snug content, ambition loses sheen. His form did swell, his vigor waned, amidst the silent cheer, Of those who thrived in dim delight, where day did not appear. But oh, what tales the world above could tell of land and sea, If only longing stirred within, to break complacency. Yet in his court of quietude, no whispers of the skies, No dreams of green or ocean blue did flicker in his eyes. For ease had built its gilded cage, and in it, he remained, The monarch of a muted world, where nothing new was gained. So let this tale of stillness deep be one to break the spell, Of comfort's sweet, seductive grasp, that keeps us far from well. For in the quest of more to seek, in yearning, we are driven, To leave behind the trodden path, for brighter stars in heaven.
Date: April 27, 2024
Random Thoughts
What is given can be taken away. What is earned is inside you always
In cells of steel and twilight's gleam, Sits a soul where light and shadows beam. Beneath the moon, a silent plea, A figure bound, yet essence free. With eyes closed tight, the mind's eye sees, A garden grows, with vibrant keys. Petals spread where bars confine, Nature's child, both stark and fine. What hands can hold, may slip like sand, Yet what's sewn in self, forever stands. Roots entwined through flesh and vein, A spirit's growth, through loss or gain. Though wings are clipped, and space is small, The inner cosmos hears the call. A universe within, unmarred, By locks or chains, by bars or guard. In silent strength, he sits, he knows, Where freedom's clipped, the spirit grows. An inner flame that time can't sway, The self-made light, that guides the way. A testament to silent will, In cloistered walls, he blossoms still. For what is reaped from soul's own plot, Remains within, though freedom's not.
Date: April 26, 2024
painting
The Golem of Twilight Grove
In the grove where the twilight weaves, Lies a golem with leaves for sleeves; With eyes that gleam like rubied fires, And limbs of steel, as dark desires. Beneath a tree with orbs of red, He rests his ancient, horned head; His beard a cascade of the night, Braided with stars, oh what a sight! Mechanized might, in silence bound, In cords of roots, he is gowned; With fingers fine as artisan's tools, In this eerie grove, he silently rules. The snowflakes kiss his cold, blue skin, A fusion where flesh and gears begin; In this enchanted, timeless nook, He is both the legend and the book.
