Its been over a year since he pulled the giant stump from the river.

The muddy water preserved the old tree, much better than the air.

I thought the goal at first was preserving the wood for a re.imagined table.

If it dried too quickly it would crack, if it did not dry it would rot… choices.

I let it weather till the skin became like stone,

now to stop it before the wither rots its bones.

After floating in currents of ageless purgatory.. hiding its beauty in the mud.

It stands now embracing time and all her terror.

The weakness cauterized, no more afraid.

We did not stop time, we leaned into the discomfort till we rode it like the currents we used to know.

At the center of it all is a fire… it sears the rot and chokes the damp.

Consumed eventually, but not today.



Sadly duty does not drive me very well, neither do shame or guilt. Those things might get me out of bed when I don’t want to, but passion for better or worse guides my life. Sounds rather epicurean I know but luckily there is no competitive side of me that seeks to preform in order to impress. Only to breathe in order to dance,climb,love,create,destroy…then i’ll dance again. Curiosity is what sustains passion, you have to willing to reinvent yourself and the relationships around you constantly.   -TheDick