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Siren’s Song

I lay on my back in tall plush grass, watch the sun burn his path ‘cross a crisp blue sky.

Desirous to go tread my feet upon sands on a shore far away and smell salty air,

With eyes scarlet veined and tears shed afresh

For I am somewhere new and distinct.

I kiss a strange mouth, drink sweet clear water, break open warm bread, reach for pale yellow butter. Listen careful and close for how fast it all goes

And life, she’ll continue without us.

I believe that a life is unlived until one open’s one’s eyes, inhales vast amounts of air and tastes everything. I believe that to be really alive,
one must see and be seen, hear and be heard, exist with mouth and heart open.

One must never cease to search for new sights, smells and tastes, to experience fragrant, delightful predictable pleasure along with foul, grubby maybe guilty pursuits.

Our world – all our traditions, history, priorities and emotions exist on a plate and within a glass. Everything’s connected.

All my journals burst with observations and feasts; I’ve had so many fantastic meals, both in dives and in haute places, by myself and with others. Something within is now pushing to get out. And I must write.

So I invite you dear reader, to enter my rather idiosyncratic (self indulgent? Geez, I hope not..) web of sites and encourage you to have at any hints, information, suggestions or pleasurable pursuits you might find herein.

For…if a pure life

Led without pleasure,

And yet filled with guilt

Promises only a monotone heaven

I say then, I’d rather burn

‘Cause the whole of eternity spent writhing in pain

Is rendered worthwhile

By one solid moment of absolute bliss

A glass of red wine

And a perfect Kiss

~Elizabeth Lenore-Patrick