This is what I hope to be my final essay for the time being on this topic, as I try to exorcise my thoughts through writing so that I can try and move on to writing about other subjects. There was the goodbye, and then there was the fractured, dissonant event of death itself and…
You know what I’m talking about. Everyone plays the waiting game. All the time. I’ve had cause recently to reflect on waiting and have come to the conclusion that there are many different types of waiting, but they all come down to a delicate balance of the same things: time, patience and discipline, and circumstance. On…
There are the days when the words won’t stop coming. And then there are all the days when they don’t appear at all. Sometimes there simply isn’t anything to say. You can fill the space with noise and distraction but the spirit is empty and the substance is hollow. Other times, you have words exploding…
The Feathered Rose 