There is breeze
Warm and flowing
Past her face
Moving her hair
Crossing over me
An invisible link
Beneath a turquoise sky
Bejeweled with yellow
Diamond sun
Soft contentment
Author: Cantelon
I am a word carver by profession...i get paid to write. Just read the blog...
April 11, 2025 – purple
small purple flower rises
like a spear tip from the ground
in an otherwise greyscale world
and it pierces the dull cold air
until the world bleeds colour
and the sky becomes blue
and the trees emerald green
while the earth is life-giving rich
beneath a newly radiant sun
and i am made to become aware
that life and goodness are intentional
amidst the emptiness of everything
I’m Right Here – The White Lotus (No Spoilers)
So like every other person on the planet right now I have become a White Lotus fan (my wife and I).
I have enjoyed every season so far and the characters have been great. One character in particular continues to nag me at the back of my mind and in my thoughts. That is the character of Chelsea from season 3 played by Aimee Lou Wood.
I am not sure why but I find her an incredibly interesting and somewhat contradictory character. At times she comes across as a bit head in the clouds, vapid sort and then, seemingly out of nowhere, she will erupt with a deeply insightful quote.
One such quote is the following spoken to her partner Rick played by Walton Goggins:
“Stop thinking about the love you didn’t get, think about the love you have.
I’m right here. I love you.”
This one got me right in the feels. I think perhaps because I share some of the traits of the Rick character (not proud of this) and the words are designed to cut through the dark fantasies that control and swirl about in his head.
Rick is so focused on the past and things he feels have hurt and destroyed him that he is absolutely blind to the beauty and brilliance of his present moment. This is his tragic flaw and it hurts everyone who gets close to him.
The destructive force of a mind trapped in a thought prison built out of fixating on what we don’t have, what we’d rather have, etc. is massive and yet we often find ourselves in such cells. In fact we don’t just find ourselves in them we stroll willingly into them, lock the door behind us and throw the key out through the door bars.
This kind of trap is what I would say is typified by the title of one of Charles Bukowski’s poetry collections – Love is a Dog From Hell. It is the perspective that love will destroy us and everyone we are close to. It is the opposite of Chelsea’s view. A memorable line from the collection is “if there is a junkyard in Hell, love is the dog that guards the gate.” In many ways this is Rick’s view. Rick is Bukowski and Chelsea is more of a Elizabeth Barrett Browning of “How do I love thee let me count the ways…” renown.
Am I a Rick/Bukowski or a Chelsea/Browning? It depends on the day. Actually it can depend on the hour, minute or second. Rick and Chelsea represent the polar opposites of a spectrum. Neither are the healthy place to land. Somewhere in the middle is best I think.
I want to be more of a Chelsea.
“Stop thinking about the love you didn’t get,
think about the love you have.
I’m right here. I love you.”
April 10, 2025 – Anno Vitae
Take a space of time
And bind it at each end
We can call it a year
A year of life
It can be whatever you want
It can be exactly what you don’t
Or
It can just be
None of it is real
Like a dream you wake from
That fades in the light of day
A book left open in the sun
Cool
How cool is this?
April 9, 2025 – woven
i am woven into the fabric
of the all-pervading air
that surrounds me
and is a part of me
of this place and space
the stones and mortar
i am entangled into the lives
of the people i love/hate
and of the people who love/hate me
their laugh blends with mine
our cries ring out to the hollow skies
as one great cry to the world
i am woven into the fabric of you
and you into me
whomever you may be
our hearts beat in rhythm together
and press life to our limbs
i am inseparable from existence
forever
Vote Damn It!
April 8, 2025 – The End of the Day
At the end of the day
The cat and I
Sit in the waning sun
As spring seeks to wake
And winter becomes undone
She walks tip toe tentative
Through the dead dry leaves
Like a little bear waking from
Drowsy hibernation
And i watch
Taking in the musty scent
Rising from this thawing earth
April 7, 2025 – self-immolation
He was addicted to the smell
Of gasoline poured over his head
And the feel of his flesh
As it burned unnecessarily
Again and again and again
As if be were Prometheus
Chaining himself to the rock
And waiting for the eagle to come
Riding an ocean of dead
In a leaky boat
Clouds
The clouds are white cotton
Above our injured heads
And i imagine in the moment
That they are soaking up
Our bleeding in this time and place
Stopping up our hidden wounds
As we lay in the embracing grass
Waiting for the ever-present sun
To cauterize us in comfort
Harnessing Chaos 