Monthly Archives: June 2014


From the woods,

Comes a sound.

An ancient chant

to which all bow.

It called me from my slumber,

Ringing out from the trees.

A knock known on my heart,

Quickly I am to my feet.

I am drawn inward,

To the center of it all.

The song propels me,

And pulls me along.

It echoes in my ears,

And causes the ground to shake.

So powerful are Its words,

Even the snake quivers in Its wake.

Heat grows under my skin,

I am closer still.

I feel a fear nesting inside,

What is Its will?

Further on I step,

The ground damp to my bare feet.

The pulsing sound reverberates

off of me.

Then at last I have found it,

The cause of it all.

The sound is now defeaning,

It sings of a beautiful fall.

I see in Its wispy eyes,

Shroud in a blinding white,

Tears that are forming.

In Its sadness It cries.

I am driven by a sudden feeling,

To be by Its side.

For how lovely a song to contain

Such darkness and strife?

To stop this entrancing music,

And keep it from all kind.

How could this misery

Come from such light?

But as soon as it knows of my thoughts,

It barrels up in height,

And anger fills Its delicate face,

Taunting my weak mind.


you could never understand.

You little soul.

You little man.

I need not your comfort or selfish deeds.

I pursued your love a time ago,

Searching within

for an unconditional seed.

I have tried several times, my child.

But the plan never worked.

You turned on me,

And have left me abandoned to the dirt.

It is my weeping now,

That brings you from your blackened dreams.

My sorrow

that finally makes you see. 

But it is too late,

The time has passed.

Be gone, child.

That is the last plea I will ever ask.

My eyes wide,

I watched as it dropped Its head and began to sway,

Singing again,

With a voice as sweet as day.

But still sad is the song,

That bleeds from Its lips

And tears at the seams

Of souls eclipsed.

I could feel a shifting in my bones,

As if I had lost a piece unseen.

Something was missing.

My heart began to feel weighted from the plea.

I could feel the heaviness cover me,

And drag me down.

Now I should carry the burden,

What It had never before allowed.

At last I turned back.

to the place from where I had came,

Back to my blackened dreams.

Back to a life that would no longer be the same.



GROWN OCEAN – Fleet Foxes

After listening to the entire album of Helplessness Blues by the Fleet Foxes, amidst the wonderfully woven lyrics and harmonies, you arrive at the end destination that is Grown Ocean.

Listening to this song, I am filled with anxiety. And not a bad one. I’m talking about the kind of nervous excitement that fills you when you’re about to embark onto some kind of long awaited journey. One that you know contains so much happiness, so much fulfillment, that you cannot keep it in. It makes you run around; it makes you dance; it makes you smile; it makes you laugh; it makes you sing. It fills you completely up, leaving you bubbling over with a pounding heart that is on the brink of explosion.

Yes, that is this song.

At least, it is for me. It’s so bad that I usually have to avoid listening to it at work. Why? Because I will find myself not working and just melded into the song, daydreaming beyond what and who I really am.

I won’t deny that I’m honestly in love with the entire album (Helplessness Blues). In fact, if you have the time, I encourage you to start from the beginning with Montezuma and ride it all the way through The Plains and The Cascades to Grown Ocean. It’s definitely like riding a heavy wave and will flip the channels in your heart, but it is so worth it. Your soul will thank you.

Click here for the lyrics and enjoy the video below. Take a listen and breathe it in.


I can taste the summer

in the sounds.

The look of the heat,

wafting from the concrete.


A sugary smell to the air,

savoring memories past.

Memories of youth

and those that I thought

wouldn’t last.


My hear is sick,

you see.

Nostalgic of the thoughts

that overcome me.


There is a pandemonium

that walks around

these crowed streets.

To this place and that,

grouping and touching,

a human need.


They go without destination,

drifting in life’s streams.

They are carried on the current,

no velocity.


We walk the same lines as those before us,

carving canyons and digging deep.


It’s beautiful though?

The patterns that we make.

The shaping that takes place.


We really are part of some great machine.

But it’s beyond us

and only with us functioning

is it complete.