: About Me

I am just a man.

I have found this world and its idle conflicts and aspirations to be a mere fallacy. What is it that we humans so desire? Is it love or meaning through self-fulfillment? I am still working on figuring that out for myself.

I desire truth. That is the simplest way I can express my feelings. I am tired of the old ways and old systems of knowledge. I believe that I have within myself - and that everyone inately has this - the ability to realize and defeat all that which is false and all of that which is not life. Everyone develops a system of reason, whether they realize it or not.

I desire criticism. Those who do not are cheating themselves. My blade is yet dull and must be sharpened through the blows of superior argument. That is how the writer develops, and that is how I see myself becoming great in that art.

I love the outdoors and would challenge anyone to show me a better medium for connecting with one's inner being. The harmony between the human and the forest is primal to be sure, but it is stunning in its complexity. Any writer who seeks inspiration need look no further than the forest. It is a wealth that few comprehend.

Politics is a subject most shirk from, but I fear it not. The course of society and human beings as a species must never be put in the hands of a few elite trustees, but must be carefully crafted and guarded by the people of every separate nation who share in it.

At life's end, few have the time to really reflect on what they have done. The determining factor as to who you are is what you believe is your greatest accompishment and worst failure. Consider both now. They will give you a true measure of your priorities, and they will tell you who you really are.

Visit my blog: http://www.trulyfreepress.blogspot.com

I know too much about ...

the weather

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Sprinklers

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Pale the light that flutters by in instances between Starkly darkly orange glows, the whizzing light machine. How the shower moves about - ablaze the embers roar. They are close, and by that fact outweigh the ones that soar. Skies are scarred with wispy wreaths of sulfurous delight. Booming crackles here and there give life unto the night. In the ecstasy of this, I toast the air with fire. Oh what will I do with it?  Oh what will thenspa transpire?

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