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Showing posts from April, 2021

Reflecting Thought

  There is often little time for reflection though the hours never cease to pile up.  Much is thought of, many things are remembered, but little is reflected upon.  There is a difference between thinking and reflecting; one of them presents a plan or an image, which is transformed according to feeling, or exterior phenomena that seeks an end, or a means to an end; the other is the transformation of thought without end, it simply looks, it watches the worry come and go, plans arise and finish.  When you step back from a wall, you can see how high it is, but when you are very close, you must grasp onto something because there is no way to see where you are.  So reflecting is a way to stand back and see how far the thought goes, while thinking holds to the thought as long as it wants.  Reflection shows that thoughts do not control you, while thinking always seeks a thought to control. Douglas Thornton

A Poet's Journal: February 14th, 2015

  February 14th, 2015 What is with the recording of a journal if it is not to look back upon it one day and see our ignorance, and to a lesser extent, find out the times that we have been most genuine.  The truth is that it is difficult to like oneself in hindsight because we can see that we are merely running up against our own ego time and time again, wondering why things are this way and always asking what if.  Our whole sense of individuality is based on the thought that we are different, that we suffer more, are happier, more discerning, always the better or worse of everybody else; but if it comes to us as such, if we must convince ourselves that the materiality of our thoughts is the only way to end our troubles, then that means that we are lacking something either way, that we are ignorant of whom exactly we truly are and only look into ourselves to find an answer satisfying enough.  It is rare indeed to find someone completely hidden, whose own words do not lean upon him for s

Last chance to read The Hunter's Moon!

  The Hunter's Moon  will cede its place to the new issue at The Elevation Review at the beginning of May, so here is your last chance to read before archival on this website.  Please click on the following link to read:  The Hunter's Moon by Douglas Thornton The Hunter’s Moon When all the sky is dark And there is just a cloud Of a height, illuminated By the far away sun, They gather what is the object Of the world, those who try To touch it. The cherished Are impressions of fullest night, When the gleam in our eyes Has not adjusted to the earth, As swift and nameless birds To hold our sight, make day Stand firm, while the spiritual Thought we sink down beside Moves on at its own abiding. Always kind in measure Behind the ferns, or up The hillside walking, has grief made The animal-spirit Known, but cannot call it by name, Long since, in the evening’s Low horizon, the dark Outlines of figures lie in wait. So bring the warm south wind To placid waters, and the streak Of summ