Robin,
First of all, I already wrote a longer e-mail to you . . . last night. I am
sick, and I had planted myself in front of the computer for an hour writing
an e-mail. Well, my stupid computer crashed as I was trying to send it. I
was not feeling well, and so I just went to bed. This e-mail is not going to
be anything like what I had done . . . however, I will send something more
later . . .
Anyway, you are very kind with your words. For my part, I am just a lowly
poet who has seen the world from another point of view. I was once told that
I have a gift . . . that I was able to open another's eyes into my world with
my words and actions. I don't know about that as such, but I do know that
words are a magical thing to me. However, words are nothing compared to the
power and majesty of looking into another's eyes and being able to see the
very spirit driving them.
To me, life is a precious thing. I learned a long time ago how precious and
wonderful my home is . . . this fragile jewel called earth. In part, that is
why I have struggled to enter a career in the environmental field. I love
this place . . . and I am angered when man harms it. That is a very powerful
driving force in my life. Now, when I look at my life, I see myself as
different than almost every other person around me. I have found very few
people that are truly precious to me as friends.
I have learned to look into the sky and see a beautiful place . . . to close
my eyes and listen to the world both around me and within me. And so, I ask
you something . . . what is most important in your life? What is your goal?
What makes you worthy to be? What makes you special? Most people in this
world are in what is called a "rat race." Most people don't ask the
questions that matter. What is your question? What is your answer?
Don't worry if you can't answer. Most people can't answer when I ask them.
If you think you *can* answer, then you are one of the few master geniuses
that have existed in all of history. What is important is that you ask the
question and are searching for the answers . . .
Words . . . Words can be either magical or sour. Once upon a time, I wrote
an essay about that very subject. If you like, I will try to find it.
Actually, I have written several different essays on various topics of that
ilk.
Well, this e-mail is nothing like the one I wrote last night, but my mother
is watching television in the same room . . . and I am really distracted
right now {sigh} . . . sorry 'bout that.
Well, I'll write more later.
Till next time,
Your friend and warrior-poet,
Scot
[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
> How did you become such a good writer? Whenever you write it is like I am
> being transformed into another world?
>
> Robin
-------------------------------
in the dark
my mind cannot keep still
as I sit here in the dark
the rain falling like tears
i want to smile
looking at a flower
in the night void of stars
where are my stars?
my witnesses are gone
still
the night has the scent of flowers
their perfume enhanced by the dark
it is hard to smile
with eyes full of tears
i know not
from where they come
these tears
trailing down my face
reflecting like stars
my smile is gone
the night is still
my face is bowed in the dark
touched by a flower
there are no colors to this flower
as it catches my tears
the night is too dark
without even the light of stars
and rain coming down still
robbing me of my smile
i know the true thief of my smile
she is in my heart
still
sending forth my tears
those liquid stars falling
in the dark
this has always been my sanctuary
the dark
hiding a frown
hiding a smile
i miss the stars
holding this flower
full of my tears
she is the one I truly miss
still
i continue to sit in the dark
tasting my tears
my smile
gone with the stars
i can still feel her kiss
though it is only a flower
-------------------------------------------------------
Scot Adams [EMAIL PROTECTED]
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