Hidden Heart
Welcome!
Fellowtraveler, relax and stay awhile. This is my secret place I call Hidden Heart. You will find my musings rythmatic. The subjects of inspiration and reflection flow simply, softly, in time with my more placid moods. There are punctuations of longing, bitterness, loss, and self absorbed melancholy.
I hope possibly that the inspiration of my thoughts take you to a place that is all places where human beings meet by being, and souls they sing with joy for singing, meeting fellowtravlers along the way. Have a Good Journey!
Another Day's thoughts...
Inspiration comes in many forms, the everyday experiences revisted, a visiting with a clarity made richer when viewed purposely to share with another. It is act of giving. It is living...vividly, purposefully, recording the moment, frozen-still life-kodak moments hued with experiences universally felt, but not cataloged in such a manner till the artist reveals the scene stroke by stroke or word by word or note by note. The Artist of life has gifted us with talents beyond compare and most of all, the hint is laid for all to see, that in giving is the living shared. Magic moments captured, and like the weather I so often write of, speeds away, leaving traces that even in the most violent tumults will some day fade, and be no more, but a memory. A memory painted in light, a light of black and white and shades of gray.
Fletcher Pen
Fellowtraveler, relax and stay awhile. This is my secret place I call Hidden Heart. You will find my musings rythmatic. The subjects of inspiration and reflection flow simply, softly, in time with my more placid moods. There are punctuations of longing, bitterness, loss, and self absorbed melancholy.
I hope possibly that the inspiration of my thoughts take you to a place that is all places where human beings meet by being, and souls they sing with joy for singing, meeting fellowtravlers along the way. Have a Good Journey!
Another Day's thoughts...
Inspiration comes in many forms, the everyday experiences revisted, a visiting with a clarity made richer when viewed purposely to share with another. It is act of giving. It is living...vividly, purposefully, recording the moment, frozen-still life-kodak moments hued with experiences universally felt, but not cataloged in such a manner till the artist reveals the scene stroke by stroke or word by word or note by note. The Artist of life has gifted us with talents beyond compare and most of all, the hint is laid for all to see, that in giving is the living shared. Magic moments captured, and like the weather I so often write of, speeds away, leaving traces that even in the most violent tumults will some day fade, and be no more, but a memory. A memory painted in light, a light of black and white and shades of gray.
Fletcher Pen
