From tragedy comes revival. With a swooping hand comes disaster. Every stroke of time gives rise to repeating events in our life. We shall see little happen, however, the mistakes, triumphs, and failures of others will be remembered forever. Our lives take roads not always expected, but there is always a detour available.
All the World's Around Us
January 24, 2007, 6:54 pm
Observation @ Specimen Ridge
January 20, 2007, 5:51 pm
The wind blowing at my back,
Swishing by my ear,
All across the land I see,
Weathered stones a like to where I sit,
Throughout the valley rivers flow,
Meandering along this mountain plain,
Waiting for the moisture-driven rain.
Trees which dot the valleys and plains stand tall and green,
Brown patches standing alongside are what this grand land exemplifies.
Animals upon this ridge I sit,
Never show themselves for fear of us.
The puffy clouds above my head,
Shout out "Rain!" but are dry instead.
Industrial and man-made aren't terms here,
But are simply whispers upon the wind.
Mountain-tops white with snow,
Lease the horizon for now.
Someday, one day, will they crumble?
I wait to see and to hear a giant rumble.
Etched into the sky their beauty is present, majestic, grand and Heaven-sent.
My compass around my neck,
I orient myself to some trees half-wrecked,
Mindful of all that has happened once,
In my throat I feel my lunch.
Volcanoes, glaciers, and rhyolite thru,
The impossibility stuns me,
But the land's story stands true.
The wind insistently blowing still,
I close my eyes and lay real still.
I picture myself back in time,
Through the ages of geologic rhyme,
The course this land has taken for me,
Is simply amazing and a must-see.
I ponder what will happen next,
Ol' Yellowstone blowin' or an Ice Age flowin' on this rock.
My companions, I hope, wonder this too,
While we set down history upon our feet,
And stumble only on unwieldy rock.
Most in this field might dismiss God,
But I see Him here and everywhere,
His hands on it all.
Swishing by my ear,
All across the land I see,
Weathered stones a like to where I sit,
Throughout the valley rivers flow,
Meandering along this mountain plain,
Waiting for the moisture-driven rain.
Trees which dot the valleys and plains stand tall and green,
Brown patches standing alongside are what this grand land exemplifies.
Animals upon this ridge I sit,
Never show themselves for fear of us.
The puffy clouds above my head,
Shout out "Rain!" but are dry instead.
Industrial and man-made aren't terms here,
But are simply whispers upon the wind.
Mountain-tops white with snow,
Lease the horizon for now.
Someday, one day, will they crumble?
I wait to see and to hear a giant rumble.
Etched into the sky their beauty is present, majestic, grand and Heaven-sent.
My compass around my neck,
I orient myself to some trees half-wrecked,
Mindful of all that has happened once,
In my throat I feel my lunch.
Volcanoes, glaciers, and rhyolite thru,
The impossibility stuns me,
But the land's story stands true.
The wind insistently blowing still,
I close my eyes and lay real still.
I picture myself back in time,
Through the ages of geologic rhyme,
The course this land has taken for me,
Is simply amazing and a must-see.
I ponder what will happen next,
Ol' Yellowstone blowin' or an Ice Age flowin' on this rock.
My companions, I hope, wonder this too,
While we set down history upon our feet,
And stumble only on unwieldy rock.
Most in this field might dismiss God,
But I see Him here and everywhere,
His hands on it all.
Alphabet Fun
January 20, 2007, 1:25 amOooh Baby...
January 14, 2007, 7:22 pm
If I so choose...wouldn't it be nice? We'll find out, cause if I DO choose so, I can be a Yellow Jacket, yea baby. Rock that one.
Transitions
January 5, 2007, 2:07 am
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