Knowledge – A Gap In The Clouds

The heart of wisdom is in all things

April 24, 2023

The heart of wisdom is in all things. If we want to learn, if we want to be better, if we want knowledge then we must allow the things we want to approach us freely and without force of thought or pressure of desire, for wisdom begins, as the oak begins, in moments of pure freedom and innocence.

We cannot use force to unlock potential. Wisdom is here inside us now, and out there, and so to reach the heart of this knowledge, and to grow, we must begin to understand that first and foremost we are such little things, such inconsequential things.

We must settle ourselves and turn to nature, for there her heart breathes for us, and there, when we have understood, we shall begin to see, to feel this joy building inside us, and to know that the heart of wisdom is in all things.

Vibration of soul

June 19, 2022

This was originally posted in 2012! Wow, ten years ago!

I decided it needed an upgrade and a bit of an edit.

and there the morning yawns

March 24, 2020

morning yawns

A poem I published in 2017 seems rather apt at this moment.

Buds of truth

January 11, 2020

We sometimes find ourselves
lost in a conundrum of dreams

We wander
we ponder, we peruse
and then we wonder why
and how and when, etc, etc
till our minds are so full
of bullshit we begin sprouting
young saplings of thought
all kinds of new ideas and ideologies
pychologies and philosophies
poems, songs, words and dreams.

Some kind of
implosion/explosion occurs
where we become trapped
in the void of unknowing
where the needle is stuck
and the world around us lets us go
and on and on we go
believing that if we reach
we can touch the sky.

Our feet are rooted in bullshit
our hearts, skin, blood and bone
get their nourishment from that gloop
our minds
strive to make sense of the loss
and here, our souls
they are the buds of truth
waiting for us to stop
and to believe
that the only way to reach the sky
is to know we are the sky.

What she gave me

April 22, 2019

It was such a long time ago when she gave me a gift; I didn’t know what it meant, perhaps I still don’t. Time is a distant memory and it was a very long time ago, but so is now and we have so little of it. Looking back I see I can fold time and see her, but not see her.

This memory thing we have, this prophetic voice inside us tells us things we remember and we use these things to prophesize our lives. All because of time and our running out of it. We believe in something ghostly. We trust in something distant from our understanding and so we live not for ourselves but for our memories of time yet within us knowledge exists and so we listen to the teachers, but are they right or wrong?

A little side note here.

I am currently working on my new collection of poetry, similar in size to Broken Roses and kind of carrying on from that book but not so dark and deathly. This was the last poem I was going to include and thought it would work as a prose poem but seeing it like this I don’t think it does as it reads more as an essay type thing so here it is for you all to peruse.

Thank you again to those who have bought my books, you’re all very my appreciated.