"a true revolutionary is motivated by feelings of love".........
I would promise that I am gonna write on this blog sometime soon ... since I took the time to start it and all .... but for right now it's a promise I am not ready to make.
There is so much I want to say but just can't!!! It's like I'm not allowed!
grrrrrrr!!!
It's not entirely bad, all part of some growth process.
very very frustrating place to be,
I've been here before ...
or maybe it comes to you when your ready, cause actually I have been waiting for it - hoping and praying for it, even tried to force it once or twice - things don't always work that way.
but when it's time you can't not either.
I recognise the beginning .... of the end.
Just in case that sounds weird (which I'm sure it does) especially with the song I'm adding ... what I've finally reached is kind of a burning off phase, a letting go and moving forward and like the times before it starts with walking and silence.....

.................Hello darkness, my old friend,
Ive come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of
A neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one deared
Disturb the sound of silence.

Fools said i,you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whisperd in the sounds of silence.