Musings

Rising from Penn into the natural light I was not three steps till my mind drifted to the question; "Why don't we live here", at least for a time. The buildings, the people, some dressed to the nines others in total disregard, the contrast is more than amusing. The cultural opportunities, the joy of walking a city street.

There is so much more to experience in this life, yet the daily tasks we pile on ourselves occupy all our time. The reasons for "not" outweighing the promise of "adventure". The "why" wins over the "why not".

I feel in a flux - a period where all that I desire is more difficult than planned for. In truth much of what I desire has little relevance. I wish to study and practice the graces of a gentleman, while the world drifts into casualness. A desire to be a meaningful musician, like the probability of being discovered at 58 years is plausible. I want to write words worth repeating, even self-publish if necessary like Whitman, in total disregard to he fact that I cant spell and the pen is left on the table most nights. In my dreams I would write while on a grand expedition on a wooden schooner off to a land not yet discovered. Leaving behind a fair maiden for which my heart pounds as hard as the sea. The text would leave candles burning all night.