Peter M. Hunt's Blog, page 16

Howl

Howl at the moon in reticent liberty, pealing free the shadowy bell of animation’s façade.

Venus rising

Dusk shelters learned captivity, concealing true-natured intention, conceding a lone star to pulse at the brink of instinct’s pleasure.

Venus rises, reviving gentle serenity aside integrity’s mocking praise.

Make loose the bonds of common servitude, consent passionately to softening veneration, free a soul forever with the cherishing of a tranquil heart.

Falling

To feel deeply is to fall deeply, not to stumble back to sunlight’s superficiality, but to evolve in curious darkness, learning to shiver in the fullness of the moon.

Peace

Gaze beyond judgement’s shallow husk, venture past eternity’s delicate luminescence. Permit conviction to fade with each caress of gentle heart and steady breath, softly smiling in the hesitation of innocence, entrusting curiosity to another day.

Life’s soft journey

Emerge from the darkened repose of oblivion, unsulliedby thought or temptation for reservation’s illusory miracles. Journey softly in muted calm, heart filled with dawn’s streaming hues of barren radiance, awaiting twilight’s quiet joy.

Tidelands

Tidelands bloom to nature’s touch without fanfare or desire’s circumscribed meaning. Drowning in ambivalent glory, the briny shallows twist in illusory delight, while those around continue the lumbering slog down the well-worn path of ritualized stupor. All things change, even those that never were.

Timeless

As memory erodes from the humility of aged achievement, the soul blossoms in unknowing.

Daybreak

Vision narrows in the gathering light until the space between rise and fall of the chest can be heard. Create a pathway, an escape none can see, speaking through the truth of invisibility. Dip a toe in the tepid water of intention’s clarity, empty your mind to surrounding unity: Be.

Better questions

Divining the primordial soup of the soul charms the ancients forth in a kaleidoscope of shade, releasing imagination from the bonded twins of mind and matter. Yet, common culture’s constraint serves us, calming the promise that allows Man’s trials on a borrowed land.

Destiny unattained riles the calmest beast. What instinctual imagery must be evoked to both exercise and unchain, to fulfill the personal prophesy that makes us human, each so utterly different yet eerily the same?

Maybe there ar...

Surreal bookends

Within a one-month period, I was both carded to prove of age to sit at a restaurant bar and charged the senior citizen rate, unsolicited, for a haircut. At 57, the irony had me rolling in laughter for days.

After a bit of reflection, I realized that this sort of thing shouldn’t really surprise me, given the dramatic changes in physical state that are a hallmark of Parkinson’s disease. All the same, to have these two societal bookends of responsible adulthood illustrated in such a short space...