A Secret Song

2025.01.08

Good morning, that wonderful way.

Time.

What a thing to say to someone just waking up....

That's a good alarm clock that replaces its buzz with the word time. Over and over and still (!) over again.

Throw that one against the wall and back to sleep, but only after you check the screen to check the time, time, time (!).

How are you?

Everything in order yet?

Ducks in a row?

Well, then, away we go.

Sunrise, daydreams, thoughts of you. Another morning in the mind of Wynn.

"Uh-oh. He's finally started referring to himself in the third person. Guru incoming."

"Oh, relax. Wynn would never be so trite. There are much more artistically inclined ways to share his dreams."

Wynn agrees.

On with the show.

A couple hours before sunrise. Loveseated dog fed, still words to be said.

Is this working for you?

This whole morning journal with apt AI pics business?

Still reading?

Thank you.

I don't know what I expected when I started.

Just a: "I'll store my morning journal on this blog, too."

AI pictures work wonderfully with poetry. Like when poets picked up guitars and turned rock and roll into an anthology of American Poetry.

See? It's medicine for your dreams.

Driving down the street to the beat of your favorite popular song. Don't sing the lyrics wrong!

What's said there helps define your dreams, gives you a new way to express yourself, a new way to expand the story called 'You'.

If you ever want to know what poetry is for press play on your favorite song. Even if you just like the beat, you're reading metric verse.

The melody and arrangement of instruments and harmony are an extra tool to convey the message.

Words and rhythm are the only tools of a poet's craft.

Some might say it's more difficult to paint a picture with only words.

There's some truth to that, but it's only a different medium.

It's the audience that matters; it's how you take your music.

The potential for a closer internal relationship is there with only words.

The head voice we use to read is how we define our lives, how we make our days.

Poetry said is music out loud; poetry read is a secret song for your internal ears only.

There's not enough of it in our world.

When we share our dreams with words only, we find out we're not alone.

Touch can only do so much. But there is another kind of touch: Dream to dream.

Remember as you go through your day everyone you see is experiencing what you are now reading this. Making sense of their lives and what they sense with words.

Some, so many, so sadly, lately, keep that conversation, that self-story silently told, overly simple, rehashed echoes of other people's ideas of what is best for them.

What a shame.

Others can help you care for what you can feel; your heart beats similarly to theirs.

Your metaphorical heart sung to you by that great voice within you call yourself, can only be shaped by your own choice of how you shape your dream of life.

Your tools to do this are the words you speak when you speak silently to yourself.

Science can't measure you a right way to shape your dreams because science is a shaped dream shared.

Math is its language.

Options to the weather is all it can ever give us.

How we speak to ourselves, how we tell ourselves the story of ourselves, always determines what life actually means. How we dream our days is always the best hope we have for how well we can spend our days.

Take care of the weather called your body with science, save your actual self, the one who dreams, with music, brushstrokes and words, keep in mind everyone is doing the same, and have your better, share your better day.