It seems that this rarefied territory as…

…such of us who maintain our rather anonymous, low volume blogs enjoy will be sorely missed when, at some point, one finds one has crossed the line into some higher level of recognition.   Most of us here at this level–if not all, which truly has been my experience–seem not to offer harsh judgement, but simply a neighbourly kind of support.   I myself, have never been, in such a way, too critical; and although from some of my writings, one might infer that I might be found rather particular as regards my likes and dislikes, I have a number of reasons why–even pre-blogging–this is my general way of approaching such things.  One might, for example read elsewhere in this blog, that I feel an aspiring writer is too odd a duck to give the kind of advice that another aspiring writer may need–unless that writer is deliberately targeting other aspiring writers; a thing which may or may not be the case.  This is not the least of my reasons, such as they are; however I will leave it to the reader to ferret out my other such reasons.

In any case, crossing the boundary brings into ones world, flaming, trolling, and other elemental denizens.  Some trolls are even paid assassins meant to break the spirit of those who do not, as it were, “tow the line” in whatever way some shadowy foundation might have decided needs towing.  Of this I have seen many examples, and read about a great deal more.  As I  myself am a technically savvy fellow, I am not as concerned with such things.  They will be met with the appropriate countermeasures.  Some of which my more technically savvy readers will, no doubt find very entertaining.

However, such a moment carries with it, like it or not, a feeling of “childhood’s end,” as one might term it.  A bit sad in some undefinable way.  I remember very well, my first such moment–rather trivial by comparison–being the very first comment I received from someone other than my sweet wife.  I remember it giving me pause.  Not sure, I remember I felt, as to whether I should acknowledge it myself, or just pretend it never happened.

As it turned out, responding in kind opened up a whole new world to me; and this is a thing for which I am most appreciative.  Although I have not seen many new posts from my first follower–as he was rather young, and, I am most certain, has other priorities besides maintaining a blog.  Still my exchanges with this young man remain quite significant in my memory.  And, he is, as, of this date, his most recent post will show, a very talented young man.  (This, by the way, is a quite beautiful tribute to a lighthouse, if I am not mistaken)

In any case….   Childhood’s end?  We should not fear it.  We should not regret it, except to look back upon it fondly and with gilding such as only nostalgic recollection may bring.  But, certainly we should look it straight in the face and bravely yell:  “Bring it on!”

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Amid This Lonesome Bliss | Lyrical Love

Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss,
Encoiled within my broken, fleshly shell.
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

Unfurled Orchidaceae Kafkaesque.
Sepals veined with secret, all to dispel.
Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss.

Screaming from within, fearing the abyss.
Spinning colours like fine-webbed carousel.
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

Sunlight glanced my path, to not go amiss,
Alighting dark holes in which others fell.
Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss.

I endure another swing of solstice,
Darkness bleeds to Light’s vigoroso swell…
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

I have been granted nothing, but for this:
Release of mind so the tide does not quell.
Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss…
For,
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

via Amid This Lonesome Bliss | Lyrical Love.