Norton bridge

                             My grandmother scolded me,

              As I curiously opened the cupboard

               Of the gentleman farmers 

                     Armoury-

                Caressing the doubled barrelled

              Shotguns like a young cowboy- 

             This was the manners of the town,  

             That she severely reminded me of.

             Here, guns are a mans ritual.



             And later- driving home 

             To the station, on the lonely  
               
             Winding, hilly road.

              The car lights illuminating 

             The landscape, light and dark-
             
             In wide arches

            As in a theatre,( a stage that no rabbit

            Or hare should step into - 

            
            Nor corn-field either.) 

                      

            Waiting for the dark platform


           The multi-mirrored lantern 

            Of the time-stilled station,

           Reflecting my dreams.  

          The arcs of the car lights 

          Upon the hillside etched  
          
          Deep into my young mind,

          That would become -

          A memory.
        

Ruminations of the day-

             A philosopher is usually someone that theorises about truth, a true teacher  on whatever level, is someone of few words ( beware of teachers that have a lot to say ! ) Yet points towards some truth, and advises you to LIVE that, something, that they have experienced in themselves and have become one with, in the medium that they are working with -whatever that may be . They will not have much to say - maybe nothing -

Ruminations -

             In art and spirituality, we are either a  " follower "or an innovator.We are either mediocre or a genius - and actually, everyone is potentially a genius in their own way - in their individual way of expression.  It's just a question, of trusting one's own unique vision.