Long Way Back

Double-tap left, hard punch right.
Double-tap left, hard punch right.
And I keep on going.

Kick left, punch right, punch left.
Kick right, punch left, punch right.
A familiar rhythm.

I sweat like I used to,
drops flowing down.

I don't kick like I used to.
I don't punch like I used to.
Guard is forever though,
same as it ever was.

Double-tap left, hard punch right.
Can't do sun salutations anymore,
but I can do this.

Drink the Bones

Still not Halloween, but one vector illustration of a skull deserves another. Or something.

Musings on the Journey

They never ask you what you see, when you stare out the window. They never ask and you never tell, because some things are better left to the imagination of others. When the night is so dark you almost forget the stars, you stare into a flickering flame instead. And your thoughts keep on wandering, always wandering.

They never tell you to stop believing, but it's implied, in so many small and heartbreaking ways. You answer the unspoken sentiment with unspoken reassurances. It does not matter if they believe in you - someday, somehow, you will have proven yourself. Till that day you keep watching, you keep thinking, and you keep working toward your dream.

Some journeys take longer than others, but that does not mean they're not worth the fare.

I Need Coffee

Good morning. Here's a vector illustration of some coffee. Not that I drink that stuff, but this early in the am I kinda wish I did.

Have a good one!

Memento Mori

No, it's not Halloween, but when has that stopped anyone from doing Halloween illustrations? Certainly doesn't stop me showing you this bit of vector fun I came up with.

Short Good Night Poem X

Would you close your eyes

and feel the stars

sing serenades above your window?

Would you lean into

whatever comfort

is around you; the ground, the bed?

Would you let me take you

out on adventures

that do not wear and tear your heart?

Would you welcome

the end of day

had it ever the most splendid start?

We need night to redefine morning.

In the lightest slumber there is rest.

For you let your spritit

come that much closer to peace

once you lay your head down

and sleep.

A Poem on Inspiration

Some people wonder what inspires the artist to create. This is my answer.

A word brings a thought, brings a beckoning.

A sound lets a memory play with time.

A sight, which is most splendid

lures the focused mind astray.

Drifting with the summer rain,

the autumn leaf, the wind of spring,

the frozen flake remains, always within.

Without expression I would drown,

my hard won crown, would melt away.

When I close away the world outside,

the one within begins to rhyme.