the lost man chronicles
the daily chronicle
Who is She?
She is everywhere. She is the moon, She is the swoon of another beguiling woman, She is mother earth and She is my mama who cursed me as she pained to give me birth, and who has loved me ever since then. She is my pen and my acknowledgement and my awe and She is a raw and true manifestation and memento of everything, and maybe everyone, I have ever loved.
She is the wonder above and all that I am compelled to explore below. She is the damp grass tickling at my toes. She is sunshine and water and fire and dirt. She is the taunting pique of a saucy skirt. She is the pert and the perk and the wow in my coffee. She is the merciless beauty that lies in waiting all about me.
She is the muse of my writing, the words of which are meant to be bewitch and be both elusive and allusive, poignant as well as punctual, that darned favorite shirt with Momís adoring double-stitch.
For i seek the universal in the individual that I am, and shamelessly put it forward for every woman and man to see, if not to afford them a better understanding of themselves, at least to give them a peek into the purest me, a simple man who sees dazzling wonder of it all.
And in this anonymous exposure I earnestly attempt to forfeit my ego in exchange for something less demanding, yet more commanding of the evolving fate and the beguiling ambience that envelopes me.
I also vie to write as i do, to likewise pique others too. For I want to move others into a mood of utter appreciation for all that is and all that they are becoming, but hereto have been unconscious of until seeing their reflection in the mirror of the lost man.
May you lose yourself to this wonderful world and never find your way back.
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