Okay my second blog on here 😉 Enjoy everyone

Current mood: artistic



(Excerpt from journal entry dated 7/22/04)

The words on the paper

Tell a story.

A painting of one�s inner soul or


Whatever manifestation

It shows.

A brush stroke of painted words.

Every stroke a different line.

A labor of love

What comes from the pen?

May be sheer nonsense

Or it may make perfect sense.

What causes the artist to pause?

What is missing

From the paragraph

What hidden codes

Lie between the letters.

I ask this question every day to myself.

And as I do this,

Fragments of consciousness form.

Where do these come from??

My own private muse who comes at her whim.

Is it my inner self bared to the masses,

Naked to all?

I stumble around in the dark finding meaning to

This painting called my life.

A rut in the road is just a block I devised to protect

Myself from the one who wants to embrace me.

Who sleeps deep within my psyche.

Some days I feel old, I feel like an old woman who

Finds she has lost what she holds most dear and the

Years go by.

The older you get the faster time flies.

Your kids become adults leaving you to wonder

Where your baby you carried lovingly in your womb

Has gone.

These are just thoughts of a wearied mind. Tired of

Answering my own riddles seeking clarity

Wherever life leads me.

With this line I close this entry for the day.

Heather Patrick

Akeron Mystique

The wolf whispers her profound secrets of simplicity.


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