ST80 ... i write of sad moments

life so real it hurts the heart.

I write best of sad moments. I find the melancholy in most things. I love the tender fields upon my heart, where shades of autumns surround, winds so soft and fierce as loneliness strolling a vacant beach. I find my breath so pure in these moments, fresh as life in a whirlwind of love, every touch of air an escape into the warmth of my mothers womb. Safe and free, skipping down a forests trail, blue green moss over hanging branches of excited leaves. I love this feeling of being lost in the world of man and found in the plains of seeing. This sadness wrapped around my face, tears so close on the edge of breath, life so real it hurts the heart. 

I am restless with adventure to leave things

I am so lonely i find no way to turn, no place to comfort my soul. I am restless with adventure to leave things, to move on, to be what i have never been. There is consolation in surrendering to the wind, letting waves of change take you, by force if necessary, to lands unknown, to the frontiers of madness and fantasy, to the home that never is. I love this melancholy path, with all its splendour and destitude. I am a lonely man, a dreamer, a mind stretching beyond its limits, reaching, flying, gliding for just one slow glimpse of the terrain where all dreams dream, the moment.

I am a hopeful romantic, a lover of soft realities. I travel thru the muck of things, depressing worlds, splashes and slashes of paint on canvas. I travel with my heart tangled in freedom, tormented by the mediocre. I am a lonely man, alone out here free as the rain upon the winds. I fly high, crawl low, i do not hide from the pain of love, nor its pleasure. I am a poet dying in words, a writer of crippled sonnets, a wanderer of the vanishing seas.

I am a hopeful romantic, a lover of soft realities.

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WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

Hang Me Up…. Images