J Guillermo PaleoComment

J Guillermo PaleoComment
         "He guides me along the right paths     for his name’s sake. Even though I walk     through the darkest valley, [...]"  -Psalm 23-3-4      I used to...   be alive and about, dancing around the fibers of your time and space -- a continuum of desire that wrapped its arms around your universe; be the pilgrim that laid its weary head next to your demons; be the fixed star in sight of your false idols' greed; be the chord that made the Earth hum with the stroke of a frozen whisper and a broken smile; gather the will of your lungs' respire and fathom the escape of your prodigal verses only to sink (and drown) beneath rogue waves of affection; bootstrap my heart with songs of forever and remembrance -- a concoction of wood and wire that pursed my lips in the shores of salvation...  I used to be a child of dust - digging my own grave: the shock value of my acts: the cancer of my alchemy until I weathered the storm from my indulgences and unencumbered my Fate -- spoke through glass with my maker: me, myself and I.     

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


    

  

  	
       
      
         
          
             
                  
             
          

          

         
      
       
    

  


     Photographs by:  Henry J. Rivera    Words by:  J. Guillermo Paleo    

 

"He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley, [...]"

-Psalm 23-3-4

 

I used to...

be alive and about, dancing around the fibers of your time and space -- a continuum of desire that wrapped its arms around your universe; be the pilgrim that laid its weary head next to your demons; be the fixed star in sight of your false idols' greed; be the chord that made the Earth hum with the stroke of a frozen whisper and a broken smile; gather the will of your lungs' respire and fathom the escape of your prodigal verses only to sink (and drown) beneath rogue waves of affection; bootstrap my heart with songs of forever and remembrance -- a concoction of wood and wire that pursed my lips in the shores of salvation...

I used to be a child of dust - digging my own grave: the shock value of my acts: the cancer of my alchemy until I weathered the storm from my indulgences and unencumbered my Fate -- spoke through glass with my maker: me, myself and I.

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Photographs by: Henry J. Rivera 

Words by: J. Guillermo Paleo