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Showing posts from May, 2021

A Poet's Journal: April 21st, 2015

  April 21st, 2015 Watching the sunrise leaves us with a greater impression of what a day actually is.  When it starts up from the horizon, it does not have its sights set on how high it will go, nor what it must do, but only in giving off light, in clarifying what appears in front of it.  Our day already begins as the phantom of something we want to be, or have to be; before our eyes have even focused on the sun, we already think about when we can close them again; and so for many of us it never really rises, or hardly ever sets.  Perhaps the only thing decent in the world is to watch the sunlight brighten and fade, and leave all of our other actions to disappear beyond the shadow of doubt. Douglas Thornton

A Poet's Journal: February 16th, 2015

  February 16th, 2015 Dreams are enough to make us believe that our own personal view of the world is somehow the secret underlying meaning for which all things happen.  They are the confidence which renders meager doubt into absolute truth and hesitation into full-on action.  But none of us will admit that dreams are reality, that they are not illusion, nor that they are always positive, and yet time and again we are told to live by them, to follow them, and to play the role which we have fictionalized in our heads. Though it is separate in our understanding, the dreams of sleep and the emanations of our waking hours, are but one and the same.  There is even a certain pleasure in pondering if the exotic nature of our dreams holds a meaning to the current situation of our lives.  Such is the wonderment of recognizing the imaginative play of the real and the illusory, or the duality that seems to balance out life, because somewhere within the dream we believe there is a reality at which