I realize this blog is void in some ways remembering the weedle from the Northwest past but it’s here. If anyone cares to think much on the characters and shift in my design, they look up. A simple reflex but a gesture. I am nothing though without the ground beneath my feat.

I am nothing without the footing.

….

my heart slows

twisting turning turmoil and resolve I’m wrestling with feelings as we all do. This sets beside you. In far reaches from me I grasp at straws for sense of tragedy. In my teens I remember this song that never left me.

I lost my cousin when I was just a boy and thought myself a man and had no idea what it mean to look at the blood moon for the first time to know my friend who' share my memory gone.

That yaear a song clung to me, many were made and so many in it’s spirit but this comes back to me and in my belief the reason I think I make these posts at all stem from feeling and truth. That I am human and can feel and share these ideas if I am trusted.

The deepest dagger sank into my heart.

It’s not the song but the force within that gives me great heart hurt.