Stasis Clock

The clay that rubs between fingers has a smooth, malleable consistency. It varies from recipe to recipe from the designers who drive it. Hands grabs handfuls mixing it with water loosening the separation and tightening the order.   Intelligent hands begin shaping. I am both the clay and the hands. A duo of both being shaped and the shaper. I live in a age of clay shaping as I please swimming among the sea of many voices. The age of clay is both wondrous and terrible. Infinite possibility with the power to shape. Shape the very lives we live. Keeping to our mantras as long as they don’t terrorize and bring our hearts low with burden. So many eyes, so many cries of power. A terrible lion among the silhouettes whom prowls the land of shadows. The lion hot with the ticking time. Shadows angry, drunk with rage. The land is swept by the standing wave of a traitor. Cries and more shadows pour in bringing the flames up to white tongues of fire. Shadows dance between flames as the clay bakes ha

The clouds sway above breathing gently on the city. The whole world seems to tilt upwards as the rain falls down. He breathes in deeply trying to enjoy the tilt in perspective. Metal grabs at the ground piercing the concrete letting the city feel its structure and glass. The old man winces. A drop pelts his eyelid. This whole city was raised up by powerful men and women. He could feel it deeply as if he was a mother tree. Streets and buildings curled like roots bringing up vital characteristics, and the people were like swaying leaves upon a humid windfall. Everything is strong, interconnected and above all else loud. A car races by slapping the wind in the rumble cloud of engine. Bass booms in the backseat of the car giving everyone around a dose of heart beat. Whoever went by was probably trying to forget work. A couple walked in silence, mature in their companionship but loud with the grace of their steps. Feathers rustle dashing the gray atmosphere with colors of orange and purple.

What does coding sound like to you? Does it remind you of that old bag of a math teacher? Some dusty textbook slammed on your table while you sigh as you get out your library card. Time to sign your soul away to doomed 2 dimensions. Talking with nerds, geeks about concepts that feel more forced than real. Your brain protest calling the very thought awfully boring. I empathize. But then again, I admit I am pretty eccentric. Peering through a thin screen takes effort, but totally worth it. Let me introduce you to the world of code. Yes, I am your cave tour guide geeking over rock and mineral formations of prehistoric ages ago. Coding is awfully interesting if you understand the very power, the very extensions it gives your hands. The capabilities are endless. Code is just another brush for the canvas of ideas to be expressed. So you like art. So you like things that feels real, tangible. You and I are tangible human beings with power to build the very things that make us human. That is w

History is rich in this earth. A boy smiles as pride shines in his eyes. The sense of being near his kindred. They may not be rich. Not a superpower like American soil, but their presences says it all. A woman comes out. History has not been kind to her country. They have fought wars, bled out tears and have kept their families close. The flow of their flag’s colors dances in the wind coming across from deserts, authorities and rulership. They are the people that borders the west. Their songs come up in symphonies, humming the richness of the land beneath them. Tears glisten in their eyes. They are a people. Worthy of admiration and respect. Paintings have come from their masters of art. Technology may have made a soup of the world, but they are a people. And they will survive. Powers both from the east traveling to the west until it circles back in the globe. We are all connected, but our tunes are very different. This fact makes me smile. I feel their eyes, their authenticity echo th

 Destiny is only one part of the equation. Who am I is the path I must follow. However must does not compel anyone. The inner soul right to the center is filled with the gracious light of starlight. To the empty space above, the infinite cosmos are filled with souls yearning for the promise of eternal destiny. They swirl in the galaxies without thought feeling while they are going no where. Once in a while a star will fall to the earth and take the shape of a broken rock. A fragment of what once was from the brilliant cosmos is left behind. Glittering tears streak away painting the night sky with hues of purple, blue and red. For their brother has fallen and lost among the other stars. Is destiny there? Beating hearts can only pump blood into the veins of its life. Poisons gushes through the soul of spirit and body tied together with great care. The violence of indifference strikes suddenly. Ripping at the seams mocking the beauty within. The physician looks with sorrow at both the vic

There was city built by the mind of a 12 year old girl. She walked the streets with a night gown. Several blocks behind her sat a little doll on the corner of a street. That little doll will be there if she ever needed it. A beautiful dawn began to peek up. Hues of pink and red danced the sky. Crisp air rolled in with a promise of a warm day. Today’s walk was not about the promise of her future. No, the pull of her trusted instincts led the way forward. With her eyes closed, tears were held back. Inside her chest, the child’s heart beated with strength but it festered with foreign pain.  Above the girl, God Himself watched His child take struggling steps away. The Lord’s powerful, pure eyes trembled and began to pool up with warm tears. If He did not have an immortal body, His hands would be sweating by this point. This girl was one of billions, if not trillions, of His own choice daughters. Yet, He loved her as if she had been His only daughter. The Almighty knew about the years to co