Beware the doors, lined in rows,
Each a story, each a pose;
Tempting knocks, with promises spun,
Yet in their frame, a journey’s undone.
For in this trip of life, so vast and wild,
Lose not yourself, nor be beguiled.
Resist the lure, of treatment unkind,
In the strength of true self is the peace you’ll find.
Return to the road, let soul be your guide,
In the passing of life, let your spirit preside.
Berries, bright as blood upon the snow,
Speak of life amidst the deathly white,
A symbol of the warmth that embers show,
When winter logs burn and hearts alight.
When life challenges what we think we know,
And casts old certainties into the sea,
We find our truest self begins to grow,
In new realms of endless possibility.
The mirror of the soul reflects but a part
of truths we hold as constant and as dear;
Yet openness of mind and depth of heart
reveals a world where nothing is quite clear.
Our lives are adventures on this earth,
With tales of mystery and unknown ends;
Each step a part of the universe’s birth,
In this grand play where time and space extends.
So embrace the unknown with a fearless heart,
For in that leap, life’s truest stories start.
In lonely fields, where silent thoughts tread,
Many a soul, in quiet, walks alone.
Even in love, where hopeful words are said,
Deep understanding remains unknown.
The transient thrill of passion’s early light,
When faded, leaves a deeper, lonelier night.
Within the silent theatre’s sleeping walls,
Does an echo of performance dare to dwell?
When no soul in the darkened chamber calls,
Does art, unseen, still cast a vibrant spell?
A lone ballerina’s pirouette,
Spun with the grace of whispered solitude,
Exists as truly as the sun does set,
Though no eyes will judge the view.
For art, when unobserved, retains its form,
As does the nightingale’s unheard refrain;
It needs no gaze to validate its norm,
Nor applause to justify its pain.
Thus, though unknown, the act remains pure,
The essence, born of hope and love, endures.
I claim my right to wander through each field,
To be the sum of all my parts and more,
With every breath, a new song revealed;
A human truth that names ignore.
Though tempting it is to group me with the rest,
To render me a simple, static thing,
Such boundaries leave truth suppressed,
For I’ve the right to be myself and sing.
“Necessity is the mother of invention.” Maybe, but more generally: Necessity creates the conditions for change.
“If you’re the smartest person in the room, then you’re in the wrong room.” Someone has to be in the wrong room otherwise the place will quickly empty. Anyway, intelligence isn’t one-dimensional; insight from lived experience isn’t a monopoly. It’s possible to learn something from anyone.
I was introduced as “This is Rob. He is a genius.” It’s flattering but I know it’s not true. Many people have abilities that are never developed because of how they have been socially conditioned to think and behave.
Dear God, please help me to appreciate the blessings that arrive each day. Help me to live with gratitude, to see the joy in life. Help me to truly know that it is okay to be happy.
My dear child, understand that joy does not come from your circumstances but from a heart that is aligned with Me. Put down the unnecessary burdens you carry and let your soul dance free.
I’m a brooding artist, not a conformist. (I laugh when I write this, so I’m not too far gone.)
New habit: no more looking at social media. It doesn’t make me happy, so why do it? I’ll read instead. I will occasionally read TwitterX because the posts can be interesting/funny/informative if filtered well.
In my life, I have produced interesting creative things from 1998 to 2002; then from 2017 until now. I think I have accelerated this year.
In quiet chambers of my brooding heart,
A lurking guilt murmurs, undefined;
Though I inquire, it does not depart,
A spectral woe that upon me dines.
To pathos drawn, like fungus to a tree,
Yet why this grief exists, I scarcely know;
Enshrouded in a self-made mystery,
I dwell imprisoned by an unjust glow.
But the key to lift this heavy veil
Resides not in the solace of my mind;
It is when for others’ joy my efforts hail,
The fetid chains are left behind.
Thus, in the living for the spirit of thee,
I find the path that sets my soul free.
Though distanced from your grace, your laughter’s vivid hue,
Still in my secret heart, a fire’s lit, and it’s all for you.
Yet, even as the dark descends, and moonlight takes its toll,
Your smile illuminates the hidden chambers of my soul.
What a cruel joke, that fates have drawn their line,
And placed us worlds apart, in different points of time.
Yet in each stolen glance, there’s something more I find,
A beauty underneath, the outer attraction of your kind.
I see the care you give, the simple joys you share,
The way you make a moment sweet, just by being there.
But, like a moth too close to light, I fear I can’t come near,
For what could such as I offer, to one I hold so dear?
And so, I hide away, in dim-lit corners where,
The brilliance of your smile can’t quite so fully glare.
Yet know that in the dark, a secret fire’s alight,
Fanned by your distant grace, it warms my lonely night.
I’m from a little place that suddenly expanded 13.8 billion years ago. I’m not sure where I was before that; it’s been like waking up with amnesia. My atoms were forged in the furnaces of stars. My biology evolved through countless forms. I existed before I was here.
But, taking the close-up view, I was born in London and grew up near the edge of the M25 in Essex, eventually moving to Colchester fifteen years ago. I went to school, become an accountant, did this, did that, etcetera.
However, I’m really from a place of joy and wonder, as all children are. A place soon lost, locked away by foolish adult thoughts, but to where I try to return. Creativity, imagination, love, joy, mischievous playfulness – this is where I am from.
Rob Walker 