Summertime Graffiti

It’s probably unfair to place our dreams of Freedom to our children, but until us adults decide to do something else and figure it out - it rests with them. Who knows what hopes and and dreams may come.

When fire burns concrete it leaves scorch marks. Black eventually gives way to gray and then to the dull white that makes up of the smooth grains of sand and gravel. Weather beats against it - cleaning and washing it anew. The grooves lining like channels rushing the remnants of the flames away.

Somehow, the half-life of paint is more than fire, at least on concrete.

Be it a business, a structure, or an art, creations have the ability to outlast Creators. in the end though, there is only one way to be remembered: to build something - with love and care.

I arrived one day and that was it. I was here, and I will remain until the day my number is called. Hope when that day comes, I hope I was a good neighbor.

Do you know that bricks can spring life? Is it because there’s not sonnets to plants or poems to the weeds that ‘Grow from Concrete’? The same laws of nature must be broken on the path to the surface. There’s as much beauty in the unnatural as the natural.

Posted signs are meant to signal to passersby important information or dangers related to events, geography, or wildlife in the nearby area.

When the early folks of France first sought refuge in a cave, did they have the same stir in the deep recesses of their unfermented, unleaded brains seeing the magnificent calcite walls of Lascaux?

Since humankind has been able to use the oxidizing earth to tell stories they have found ways to use whatever available to them as canvas. Letting their story live on, their intentions lost, the meaning only be found in those who see it.

I like to think of Death of having a sense of humor. They have to right? How else do you stay in job for so long? I don’t think it’s for the benefits.

If you were reduced to the dry clay that made you, what would remain? Could we break a person down into bricks? Each experience creating another layer of being. Time is the mortar connecting, building upon, and hardening. The bricks of us that feel large - are not. They are the bricks closest to who we are.

Time is a raider, moving ceaselessly against the towns of youth. Youth is not wasted on the young. Youth is brought to heel - mercilessly - by the tyrant of time. In the end though, what can be done? Nothing is meant to last forever. Forever is manmade.

Forks in the road, road less traveled, all fancy ways of saying you are lost. You are not lost if you do not know your destination. Wander through life. Stop to enjoy the moments in between, but don’t dally. It’ll be over before you know it.

The beautiful reclamation that will come for the earth when the last human and the man made marvels we made crumble to dust. Returning once more from whence it came. At least there will still be daisies.