Members Thoughts

Strings of Wonder

Two interconnected hearts, one soul seemingly unknown to another. Until the two sparks strike each other and ignites the eternal flame that has been hidden. Flames of different forms and sizes growing and shrinking on a constant basis. The only thing that never dims is the original spark.

They are always there on the move, even when hidden away. We see the essence as the spark of truth, but yet it goes further and deeper than that. It goes further than we can see or comprehend. So we have to expand on the smallest ounce of truth with in ourselves until once again it's a roaring flame.

Doing so by igniting your spark in the dim halls on such narrow a path. It starts within ones self from a place of invisibility and incomprehension and moves to a place of growth and construction along a road that seemingly has pitfalls across the shaky path. Ultimately connecting the one soul and two hearts that were never apart.

Thought of the day

Take the pen of your life and write from your soul. Doubts, worries, dreams and joys it's all in the ink of your existence waiting to be strewn across a surface to form expressions, uniquely yours.

Why all the pain? Why all the suffering?
What do we gain? When people are struggling?
Why can't we live together as one 
Why can't we sing instead of the gun
In the world that we live there are so many evils,
So many distractions, negative upheavals,
What do we have to do, to get where we want to go,
Who do we have to be, to dig out of the snow?
In times of distress, it's easy to regress,
But if we listen to the wind we can see an open door,
To take away our problems, get the water back to shore,
Who knows what will be, or if we'll even see,
The end of this time we live in,
A spiritual remedy,
To end all the pain,
Bring on the rain,
To shower the people,
With a good hearted sequel,
Of a heart broken life,
Or an unfaithful wife,
But hope for a better time,
With new mountains to climb.
Sometimes our days don't go as planed,
But we can't give up hope, or bury our heads in the sand,
For this is why we sleep, Wake up & start a new,
Even the black sheep, Sees the morning hue
Good morning to you,
Good morning to all,
May this day be of good fortune,
For the capital of Nepal.

Elevated Waves

A musty breeze traveling through the chamber, creating ripples invoking a sour disposition. Trying to rub off that pungent bitter taste which now seems to be pervasive in these quarters.

Dew and dust bunnies turning into gemstones as they hit the ground.

Next to the shrubs laden with blue and red blossoms sit the candles seemingly bare.

The musty breeze becoming sweet as it approaches the raw wax candles.

The sudden burst of flames from the wax spheres illuminating it's surroundings.

The long-lasting haze dimming in the corners.

Igniting redolent aromas engulfing the entire landscape, wishing it will last forever.

The caustic substances drowning in the anaerobic layers far out of reach.

The sparks continuing endlessly throughout nomadic expanses.

Self-effacing gypsy's moving forward with the lamps ever glowing, sometimes happy, sometimes content.