November 11, 2006

WEIRD THOUGHTS by J. Roel Lungay

The aural dimension of nature creeps like a fog so vivid yet lucidly swallowed in the vein stream of one’s consciousness. Whisper of a cool morning intent on waking up the pretentiously dreaming psyche of the unknown and yet one who’s well aware of its overly professed claim of citizenship in the sphere of human existence. Colours that welcome passage to the deep. Greens that no artist would ever trod, much less trace. Reflections that no one ever thought existed or entertained. Shadows that kept their motions going with the imaginative mind. Echoes stuck so deep in a restless soul. Emotions dancing with wolves and other strange tropical creatures caused by so-called “self-served” pipes of non-existence. Eared walls and watchful eyes wrapped in the wee hours of the night, pretending to care but curiously and seriously taking inventory of what’s-for-desertlike attack on dignity and the human soul. * * *

Things must be for real when one begins to identify the sensible from the surreal… the shape from the imagined… the sound from the voice. When the bumps and bruises are there for the mirrors to capture and for a friend to nurse to with that little knowledge of quack “medicine(ry)”, then one ought to seek refuge from the commonality of presumed “nuthood” to a much tangible sense of cry for help… and awakening. Huh?!!


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