Pen, paper and a cigarette.

February 8
Andrew Ferguson

The morning sun is hiding its glory behind a blanket of overcast sky. A backdrop of holllow covered canopy highlights the silloettes of a flock of singing birds flying with ease through this dull morning sky. Even without the comfort and warmth of the shinning radiant star that we take as our own sun, we rise to this mornings occasion of promise and hope. Flowers still growing upwards, awake from a long moonlighten night. Collecting drops of dew on their colorful pedals, maintaining the beauty that they seem to live for.
My own creation of thought fills my mind with question, with an unsolved solution to my very own exsistance. A piercing persistance of fear arrests me from openness, just another self written harness that locks my soul in this temperate body, of mine, of mind.
Although living in my own prison , i cease to forget about the ball and chain which grounds me to this heavenly earth.
Free from a certain illful pattern of ignorance, i focus on love, compassion for even the unbodily things that awaken my sleeping eyes. Another promising will of wholeness that holds the key to life that i so forbiddenly have locked.
I live for the love that so freely flows from the ones who care and can love. I am grateful for life, i am grateful for love, i am grateful for the expressing people in my expressive world. A seemingly dark, harrowing path lies before me, so dimley lite by the hopeful ones, whom i so helplessly hold on to.
Even as helpless as i may feel, i obtain a firm grasp of conception, of what i believe to be. A blindfolded leap of faith into an abyss of truths. the stormy clouds of my preceived misfortunes part, as the sea of love i feel opens my heart and uncaptures my soul
Thank you to everyone. A life lesson has been learned by even the most untaught.
The rain may never cease to persist but shelter is always going to be there for cover. The hardest easiest thing i can do for myself is to take a step back under the covered shelters given to me, so graciously. To look up towards the hevens and to see with these awakened eyes were my cloudy vision of rain is falling from.
My heart goes out to the untaught people still standing from underccover, a prayer of faith to the unfaithful.