When entering the Gorge, leave behind all preconceptions. Let yourself be carried off on a stream of consciousness that tickles the heavens as readily as it grinds down stone.



Fear of a blank mind
where thoughts like candles on a hill flicker,
uncertain memories, a trace of concern,
a faint silver outline on a dark summer sky,
a mind seeking respite from
the burdens of the past

Fear of a wasted existence,
essence lost in the ruin of error upon
error upon recycled mistake,
an intelligence dying to be absolved from its burden,
all too aware of the need to endure the pain
of its shortcomings
prior to its release

Fear of a forgotten life,
actions no longer accountable, traceable,
no longer relevant;
a life hardened, scarred, tempered by the flow of habit and
trapped inside its own domain and
left to set in cool shadow

Fear of a resurgent wave,
a breath of fresh air inside stale
and petrified chambers,
a breath shortlived and retracted, reprimanded…
a breath unbreathed …
the fear of suffocation …
the Fear…

There comes a time to breathe deep,
to live and commit and stand alone,
a time to grit the tooth and grind the ax,
to raise the deep and sunken spirit from
the bony brisket in which it was kept,
tickle the fancy to wakefulness,
kindle the forgotten and tormented animus,
the rejected anima …

Perhaps the time in here; now,
clear and present … not yesterday,
not tomorrow … neither promptly nor before long;
not there and then, not sometime quick and soon
and as soon as things are right and ready and prepared accordingly

Not like that, speedily and right along, nor in a moment …


Simply now

The spirit vibrates back to life

The spirit flows free, an animate glow

The fear recedes, burned in the wake of initiative

The chambers melt away

The bars disintegrate

The coat is shed

The spirit soars and the sky brightens

Dawn of a new day


Inspired by the song Fear of a Blank Planet by Porcupine Tree and a wild, wild night somewhere on the Atlantic Coast