Tag Archive | thoughts

Seeking, searching – inspiration


I play hide and seek

with inspiration

pursuing fickle muse

through darkened labyrinth

in dauntless expectation

She scatters thoughts

like falling leaves

and frenzied shooting stars

besprinkling each path I’m on

with quickly fading vestiges

of partial revelations

I perceive only from afar

They disappear

as I draw near

neath my feet

lay naught but dirt

where once there was

a star

Searching, seeking

lost, lamenting

My feckless quest

is near its end

the day is fading

the night is calling

Perhaps tomorrow

she will be my friend

Crystal R. Cook

Something to think about, I think.


I think I’m tired of thinking

I may just give it up

I haven’t yet decided though

I’ve not thought it through enough

I’ve made a list of pros and cons

and pondered it for days

wandering round and round

in a ruminating haze

If I really stop and think about it

and I assure you that I have

the thought of thinking things no more

really doesn’t sound too bad

It seems to me that many folks

are getting on just fine

simply gliding through their lives

with empty little minds

But then again, they’re dolts

something I don’t care to be

Without the thoughts I think

would I even still be me?

If I think therefore I am

like Descartes said

I’d cease to be, I’d be no more

without the thoughts that fill my head

“Cogito ergo sum”


Crystal R. Cook

On the shoreline.


This vast ocean is spread out before me, drawing me near with a silent voice from somewhere within the wind, inviting me to forget the world around me. I’ve often wondered why sailors referred to the waters as her, I’ve read it’s because of the seductive powers they hold and the unpredictable nature of them. When I visit the waters edge, I feel a gentle strength of comfort washing over me, the way I feel when held in my mother’s embrace.

Now, I am standing on her shore, so still in the peace she offers, gazing out upon the waves. She sends frothy bubbles sneaking slowly toward me to tickle my toes as I entertain whatever thoughts wish to find me.

I want to stay in this moment, at least for a while. I feel my breath keeping time with the rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves until the chill of the salty waters steal it away with cold, slippery fingers caressing my bared legs.

I gratefully listen in hushed silence to the whispered secrets freely floating amongst the glorious noises of nature, losing myself in the beauty before me while the sun drops twinkling diamonds upon the seemingly endless surface of solitude laid before me.

Strolling along this beach, my bare feet sinking in the moist sand, there is a restlessness stirring inside of me. Something longing to be as free as the wind blowing through my hair. I can’t help but wonder what lay beyond that distant horizon, if the air tastes as salty on those shores I cannot see.

Sitting on the glistening sands, sifting through broken fragments of shell and rock discarded by the waves, I am in awe, admiring the colors and textures artfully blanketing the silken sands beneath me. Tangled seaweed scattered here and there remind me there is a life to the sea thriving under this immense body of water I can barely even imagine.

Forests of living wonder, mountains of coral filled with populations of creatures great and small, existing in world I can only dream of. A world healing to many and a source of great fear for others. A world many have been lost to, yet enables us to live. I’ve heard tell of the great beauty which lies beneath the surface, I’m content to stand upon the shoreline and close my eyes, in my vision, it is one of God’s greatest works.

The cooling air and setting sun remind me the day has been long and I must leave the sanctity of the ocean shore, as I gather myself to return to the world I faintly hear her calling for my return . . . another day.

Crystal R. Cook

Just beneath the surface.

I truly have no idea what I want to write. I suppose that’s not entirely true, I’ve too many things I want to write would be a far exceedingly accurate representation of my current situation. There are so many words inside of me, fighting to be set free. They seem to be canceling each other out in an effort to be given life.

Long kept memories, some good, some I wish could simply be forgotten, wrestle with the new, clamoring for release. Ideas and epiphanies stored in the recesses of my mind, stories and dreams and fantasies, ancient hopes and longings, emerging wishes, knowledge and insights begging to be shared. The cacophony of silent rumblings never seem to rest.

The tangled remnants of thoughts within me wrestle with emerging ruminations, which do I favor? How do I choose? I sit to write, willing one or the other to rise to the surface, making my choice clear, but I wait in vain. They can’t decide so I must choose, but the how eludes me. They taunt me, floating just below the horizon of conscious thought, knowing I can’t quite reach them there.

Sometimes I doubt their existence, call them tormentors and illusions, but that would mean I’ve gone mad without realizing I’d somehow slipped from realities grasp. No, they are as real as the pen I hold. They are unforgiving perhaps, slighted in some way because I did not release them sooner, I could not release them, it wasn’t their time. Perhaps it still isn’t.

Maybe tomorrow they will willingly come . . .

Crystal R. Cook