Cornwall Sandwich Sans Ham

 

 

Cornwall Sandwich Sans The Ham

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apologia and is there a need for it?  This indeed has been on my mind for a very long time.  The past and its’ dead cousins, and how far back must we go, to save the very things we hope to impart to our children and those beyond?  A confession in minority form has me suggesting, curiosity pushes me backward, and apologia as I must say,   “ I carry much guilt.”  Guilty of being born in America, where the slate has been erased and blank-page white is what I was born with. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then came world war and more destruction of the places and things once important, became the dust of empire once polished over by a new hand.  Is now invisible to me and most of the world. Simply stated, I inherited a world that rushes forward without consideration of all that will be lost or has already suffered such fate.  For that condition, and for reasons unknown,  I carry much guilt.  Apologia and it comes down to this.  It is missing and not in me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For this I carry much guilt, but then say:  “Little I can do now, as I am impoverished by the wrath of time and displacement and the silence within stone, now pulverized and cast to scattered shores by winds I cannot name.  Such force has taken so much from me.  Apologia is but a starting place to restore that which has been taken, even before birth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My existence is but a history of abundance, and as a rule of thumb, could be described and punctuated as that which has its final resting place in the city dump.  Won’t dwell on that, and is what I was taught to do.  Move on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Change and decay rests on the foundation of bedrock.  Is where I start my process of discovery.  Where I gather myself and seek redemption.  Seek evidence that I am but part of the greater composition, and that pardon for what has been done, begins with Apologia.  Residue of guilt can now be deposited and recorded and then left in stone.  Move on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You know me by the marks on my skin, all superficial and surface representation of what you might think is there.  But wait, there is more.  What you can’t see survives what your mind is incapable of.  Valuable supplement to the command and control of  human mind, is something greater than the evidence available for now.  Show and tell and one must know and remember, but can’t. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First-hand knowledge and this is to be dismissed, as we will be replaced and much will be lost to the next hand dealt and played.  This we know.  It is not the first time Cornwall  Sandwich sans the ham has been served.  Even so, for the rest which remains unexplained and repositioned as pinions below sky, there is yawn and vast blank.  Hence, whiteboard and clean slate, forcing us just one option of my generation.  Move on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apologia complete.  Great confusion rains down upon a sea that blocks my passage.  More than a great divide, is destiny without borders as we collide with stars and make our way into another dimension and universal order.  Chaos is our fulfillment.  For a long time he thought there was so much more.  Now indifferent, is as if truth is yet the crusts of earth, already lived and now replaced by theory and possibility, beyond physical fact.  Beyond verification and name, I will rest and then do as others have done.  Move on.

 

 

 

Cornwall Sandwich Sans The Ham, I leave to you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Comments (2)

  1. tiggers

    Nothing better then reading Stoney blogs Happy New Year my friend

    January 04, 2017
  2. shemelts

    The words at the end speak volumes. White slate, and a word wall.

    January 06, 2017