Le Voyage Magnifique

Awareness

It just doesn’t get any better than this:

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Thank you, John, for allowing an arthritic old geezer to share an otherwise impossible glide through your tube. The spirit goes where the body cannot. This is a perfect example of poetic essence expressed in prose language, i.e. a prose poem.

Then, Karen took me by the hand and led me tip-toeing through the tulips down memory lane. (Believe me, the image of a rickety old man tip-toeing anywhere is NOT a pretty sight.)

During various seasons on my morning stroll, I see hibiscus blooming in a yard, hear music flowing from a kitchen window along with a crow (or raven?) cawing in a pine tree, feel the warmth of that orange disk sitting on the horizon in the summer, or the chill of brisk morning air in the winter. While we each take different paths, I believe we all eventually arrive at the same destination: enlightenment.

Now, another awareness looms before me. A deadline is fast approaching, and my muse is not cooperating on this leg of the journey. I know where I want to go, but there is nothing but broken prose to take me there. No music but the clatter of pots and pans on the tinker’s wagon as it rolls down a rocky trail. Can you hear a rhythm in that clanging? Unfortunately, the teacher says we must write about some place we haven’t been, and I have been down this gully many times before. So, I’ll just have to keep plodding along and see what comes out the other end.

Will it be apple pie or cow pie? Stay tuned.