In the tradition of Tolkien and Asimov, "The Elfkin Journals" invites you to step into new worlds of thought. Elves, dragons, romance, adventure, and the magic of unlimited potential to spark your imagination!
The Prose and Poetry of JDeVereS
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The Journeyman
The breeze that ruffles my hair, brings with it a call to my wandering spirit.
...
I have been a blind man, groping in the darkness of unenvisioned thought.
Through cresting waves of consciousness, I seek those truths that lie beyond the scope of mortal definition.
In open quest, I wander the wasteland of existence, seeking a single pool of calm - a bastion amid the turmoil of everyday existence.
Carelessly, I follow the precarious path of a rainbow hoping at the end lies my pot of gold - the treasure of a life well spent!
I am the Journeyman
Down a worn dusty road, where time takes leave to pause, I count the posts upholding the barbed wires strand of confinement - and cry
To consider the beauty of unlimited space - the wonder of untamed lands and minds.
I envision the world as it was intended to be - free and abounding with unshackled LIFE!
I grieve at the thought of my soul being captured in the doldrums of complacency.
I am the Journeyman
Alone on the peak of crested mountains, far from the need of civilized acceptance, I breathe in the fresh chilling air.
I cross through the desert with a spring in my stride rapidly moving toward the birth of tomorrow.
In melancholy discontent, I throw back my head and gaze at the stars as tears flow freely from my eyes.
Thrusting my arms upward, I pray for the wings of Hermes, with which I might give challenge to the heavens.
I am the Journeyman
Boys turn and stare as I pass, young men nod respectfully, while the ancient curse and profane - that I would dare to be different.
My boots are covered with the dust, of an infinite number of worlds, marking the inroads of my mind.
My eyes have seen sights heretofore never seen and my heart is as free as the wind, open to all the world.
I am the spirit of youth!
I AM THE JOURNEYMAN!
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LOVE
It is my belief that LOVE is the greatest reality.
Of the three great truths -
LIFE -
Death -
and Love -
Life is a moment in eternity
Love is eternity born in this moment of Life!
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TRUTH
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I did dare to conceive that I was more than folds of mortal flesh captured in the swirling haze of civilized acceptance.
I did dare to conceive that somewhere in my mind there lurked a distant part of God urging us to higher things than wombs of solid stone.
I did dare to conceive that I might - for a moment - rise above this level of corporeal existence and glimpse the formless pillars of eternities' estates.
I did dare to conceive and in this act of conception - witnessed the birth of truth!
OF ALL CREATIVE ARTS
THE GREATEST WROUGHT
IS A LIFE WELL-LIVED!
Garibaldi Oregon
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ONLY THE BRAVE
Only the brave
know love
For the faint of heart
afraid of hurt
It is
and shall remain
AN IMPOSSIBLE DREAM!
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BEAUTY
How frightening the spider
large and glistening in the sun
Yet, reflecting the complexities of life
How wonderous a web of silk
spread through a great endeavor
Hanging heavy with morning dew
when struck by the golden light of dawn
LOOK BENEATH THE SURFACE
BEAUTY IS IN CREATION
NOT FORMATION
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Angelic Reflections
CREATIVE ACTION
As a rule, the beauty of creative action is far more eloquent than the spoken word
However, without Dreamers, those who see the yet to be - Life is a stale tomb of eternal redundance
Pertrified by visionless antiquity into cold and useless stone.
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THE POETRY OF LIFE
There is a poetry to LIFE
A rhythm of soft spoken verse
Uncluttered by the need of civilized acceptance
its pace is constant with the flow of the universe
Owing its truth only to the fulfillment of divine purpose
Born in the womb of simplistic grace
It's silken folds of flowing length
Follow in deft alignment
The contours of our lives
Tracing the images of our souls
In water color vistages of LIFE
transcending DEATH!
As a rule, the beauty of creative action is far more eloquent than the spoken word
However, without Dreamers, those who see the yet to be - Life is a stale tomb of eternal redundance
Pertrified by visionless antiquity into cold and useless stone.
