
If my writing has done anything for you, then that does everything for me. – Ash
"A collection of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, to the world around me"

under this one light
in the amber hue, I have my portal to then
an eve painted in summer
teenage banter filled the air as crushes bloomed
and comradery flourished
cool breezes were another layer of skin
traffic and the passerbys provided background noise
like an orchestra playing a scene of those wonder years
time dared not show its face where we ran, we played
all of us together having no clue one day we would grow apart
as age banished our internal youth
but for that very moment, a looping memory was being created
for everyone, I’m sure, for me… for sure
against the fade of those nights that will stand the test of tomorrows to come
I remember because each second I stand here in the illuminated golden of right now
my heart minted in aurulent
keeping this memory where I leave it
under this one light

fading fading fast
no one can see where I’ve gone
must be how I blend

Welcome back, join me and my continuing conversation about my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to the world around me.
In this episode, I talk about how seeing a white dove helped me decide to change my life. How sometimes the hardest job can be taking a new one. And, how the universe speaks to us. Oh, and as always, I throw in a poem and a quote for good measure.
Enjoy!!

I run toward nothing
I have nowhere to go but I’m running
away from the person you think I am
away from the shadow you say I cast
my heart getting weaker the further I go
there is no voice calling my name
no soul missing mine
my blood is useless
it means nothing to anyone anymore
soon I will be far away
nothing will bring me back
life will have stretched the whole distance
from where I was to where you left me
a lifetime too late

Tools of a writer are the keys to the written. Remember your keys. Try a few, unlock those words. – Ash

I am in the middle of the ocean with no shore
at night when there is no day
wading in silence, not worth a sound
barely swimming above the darkness of my abyss
tired, weak… alone
the deep is calling
its black swallowing light
there are monsters showing beneath
I can’t tell if they feed or if they need
the pieces of me that sink here to the bottom
phantoms in the fathoms pull me under
I will see waves no more
if I drift down too far below my surface

Leroy Dink. “Dinks” was the Willy Wonka of arcades. He was strange, odd, socially awkward, and moody. Unlike the chocolate factory, there was no need for a golden ticket to get into his whimsical haven for kids. Nope…if Dinks liked you and you had money to spend, you were welcome. If Dinks didn’t like you and you had money to spend, the money was welcome. Oh, and another thing about Dinks. If he really wasn’t fond of you, well, let me just say this. There’s no free men when he makes you play for your own life.