Whimsical Perambulation

Sunday, September 23rd, 2007 UTC

This a tale, of a dream, of a train.
Not any machine, only plain and mundane.
Of joy and fantasy, a locomotive.
Cast with magic, without a motive.

Holding still, the world moves around it.
In present, and past, and future you’ll find it.
In order to spot it, you must not be searching.
Open your heart, and it won’t be hiding.
Calling your name with it’s touching “choo-choo,”
Sooner or later it’ll come across you.

Two girls and a boy, together were riding,
On the magical train late one evening.
Dreaming and laughing, and waving at strangers,
The magical train had delightful passengers.

Around and around the palace of dreams they sailed
kindling souls of bystanders with rapture thinly veiled
In the undaunted little blue car that cruised so far
Way beyond kiosk, coffee-house, and sushi bar.

The lights always glaring so jovial, so friendly,
Harmoniously gleaming on shoppes in an alley.
“A sweet surprise, what a twist!”
The children would say as they whirled through the mist.

The train was a-flying,
Over the people a-staring.
What a gaze! What a chance!
Magical train! An instant romance!

Once eager passengers, souls become oblivious.
However, the train, is ever so spacious.
Being inviting, you should wave at strangers,
As they might become the train’s future passengers.


Le Penseur and his vexations

Saturday, September 22nd, 2007 UTC

In the end, what we should pay attention to is not our thoughts in themselves, but what we think about our thoughts.

If we latch onto a thought, it is not the thought which matters, but the latching. No matter how genius a thought it could have been, if we adhere to it it stagnates and we are not geniuses, but close-minded idiots.

If we advertise a thought, we achieve a similar result.

If we are reluctant to harbor a thought, then this thought has shamed us.

If we lovingly and intensely admire a thought, only then we are well-justified to think it.