Simplifying often reveals a core, or if diligent, a hidden subtext. In this ongoing series, unintentional meanings buried within existing narratives are revealed, forming connections previously unnoticed.
All are extracted from National Geographic magazines.
"It is not a lonely world, but full of interest, always changing, transforming itself," A journey one rides
alive and moving. I grew curious, and sought out the water's edge.
Published in The Juvenilia: Issue 1
Outside in the flowering tree / blossoming / it was quiet. / I dropped into a seat toward the Center. / I asked how he found the times, He reflected a moment. / “The only trouble,” he said, “is that life's too short to know and enjoy THE END
H leads T, his son, after a day of gathering in the strategic border area, rich in potential. What, I wonder, will become of the so-called primitives? One day, perhaps, I will know. I remember their last words to me, the alien they befriended: “You will have to come back. We want you to live with us.”
In pursuit of History, we became his feast
It seems to me that the Future with its desire and fight and optimism to keep alive could take more time to shelter human aspiration, that quiet library of the mind and subtle uplifter of the human spirit—that place that makes a man feel so young.
On the mainland once more, I headed to make the trip—a special pilgrimage attended by those who seek to observe old arriving Men. As watched with relief as darkness bled on a meadow. Chanting in unison they filed slowly around the cemetery to show the dead the living are here pacing round the crowd so frail with age. If I understood little else, I could sense the humility, simplicity, sincerity of these machines.
Engulfed in landscape, homeward across their grandfather's time, among hundreds of thousands of season's labor.
magnificently in a future Built and destroyed and rebuilt peacocks guide History gifted by knowledge
When Good friends join in the quiet a wind blows fresh in us all." Because only a few Journey to Mars
They have a command on Death within neutral waters overhead.
believing with wide eyes over and over again This is love
No existence depends on men A garden fresh, and A maze bright bring the bounty
a line forms a single emphasis yet few see the line
i listened cautiously as we presumptuously nodded “Yes,” engulfed by communication
Above him towers a story designed to halt Another world of neon from the shadows
beauty shines from the faces of daughters and voyagers so extolled the beauty on expedition seeing the women under the Sun.
through a cloud-cooled meadow the author stalks
trying to improve life untrammeled I taught For years, only to deepen
a beauty revels in the sunshine with flowers in the country's ethnic mix
I listen to a choir of young voices singing A poem in a dream of black My mind's eye sees all
I heard about a man who had to create beauty. Without hate – why, it might be soon
a small boy watched and studied because For a moment their hearts had been caged , and I remembered Suddenly “Life is meant to lived.”
we saw Men in the timeless ritual of unfortunate effects. Deprived of the scent of a thousand ancient winds
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