Capturing The Moments Of A Contemplative Life though lacking meter, rhyme, and any preestablished harmony of formal methods we do find in the eroticism of moments extremely passionate expression between lovers, man and nature, and passing friends. Throughout, whether he writes of love, sex, or everyday life we find a sense of longing. The author's ability to capture purely lyrical impulses and voices then allowing them to grow in their own original directions as lyrical expression proves mystical at times. His subconscious appears to receive thoughts of past and present from outside the boundaries of time and space and flow through his consciousness. Therefore they are not necessarily the emotions of the author, or any single person but may be seen as the collective consciousness of humanity as a whole. Because of the author's aptitude to channel the passionate experiences of others whose level of energy exceeds most, many insist he is a being without a self-identity. The astonishing ease with which he transforms the phenomena of sexual experiences, oneness with nature, and the heartbreak of aging into symbolic images of psychological states proves to be the heart and soul of his writings. If you deeply contemplate his musings that appear to come from his aesthetic consciousness you will transport to a feeling of spatial motion without a conception of time.

Capturing the Moments of a Contemplative Life

By S.A. Stitz

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 SA Stitz
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-2508-2

Chapter One

     Did I?

     How many have I influenced?
     How many who asked did I not?
     Will the things I have said endure,
     Or are they fodder for the mind?
     Did my footprints scar the Earth,
     Or did I leave but a trace? In the
     Moments that existed in my time
     Did I make a difference?

     The universe is beyond our imagination,
     But one spark can change its path,
     One thought create a galaxy, and
     One kiss lift another's soul beyond
     Human boundaries. Did I manage to do
     Enough of these things? I'm told I did.

The Artiste

As he gazes deep into my eyes my body and mind slip beyond my control, I am ready to flow eternal and cast my energy throughout the limitless universe. My fate is in the hands of the artiste who knows only too well this instrument he plays. High above the madness of human chaos the rays of the sun shape my dress and wisps of white clouds form my under garments. His beautiful golden dragon guides my chariot to the gates of divine heavenly bliss; passing through I roam and linger among pleasures too intense for everyday life.

As he lay above me lesser spirits gather around bathing me in rainbow lights and jasmine scents. He wanders with me gathering up my emotions creating laughter and tears while filling me with energy that will extend my love to life everlasting.

     Hidden

     Breezes of spring
     You have your way
     With my emotions
     The rains you bring
     Paint the grasses
     Green as jade
     While blueberries
     Grow fat and sweet--
     Where is it you
     Hide in summer?


      Spring rain
        moist grasses
        sweeten the air


     Too Precious

     Around her neck she wears the
     Symbolic dragon he gave her,
     Holds dearly the poems that
     He wrote. The clothes that he
     Wore she can't bear to wash.
     Her love for him is like a flower
     That is much too precious to pick.


     Solitary man

     on a hillside
     beyond the city
     sits a solitary man
     nobody owns

     alone he endures
     a sorrow that grows deep
     with the cold wind
     and the falling snow

     no matter that he does not
     threaten the earth's creatures
     or bother spring flowers that
     compete only for beauty's sake

     he too will fall under the weight
     of humanities dreadful burden
     to be trampled into dust, but the
     wisdom he offers will remain.


     Lovers of the Night

     Transparent clouds so delicate
     that distant stars shine through.
     Meteor tails proclaiming the
     ecstasy of lovers who meet
     but twice a year. The energy
     they create is so much more than
     lovers of this world can manage.

     Merging into each other like
     molten lava for one long perfected
     moment in time, their bliss is beyond
     the hopefulness of dreams. Yes,
     they know sorrow when they part,
     but the experience lasts forever.
     Their melancholy is but a wisp of
     smoke against the rays of the sun.


     Spring Is Everywhere

     There are ten thousand
     shades of green and
     five thousand shades
     of red on this twenty-
     first day of spring. I
     walk along the bank
     of the river and smell
     the perfume 0f the
     flowers; at ease and
     smiling while the soft
     south breezes caress
     my face. Everywhere I
     look spring is blazing.


          looking to
            heaven for Truth
            I stepped on a flower


     Joy in Being Alone

     I am not destined to be social,
     the basement of my home
     is where I can be found.
     Hundreds of lines of prose
     I write filling my time. When
     I am bored I relive my life's
     experiences and feel again
     as I did back then.

     It is not for you to say that my
     writing is weak, and the words
     do not rhyme, it is I who feel
     the rhythm of their movement
     like a fresh breeze lifts a feather.
     The images buoy my emotions,
     give joy to my being alone, and
     loneliness never creeps in.


     One More Hour

     In bed we whisper softly lying
     one against the other resembling
     vines on a tree. Teasingly
     with legs entwined, and heads
     together our hands once again
     begin to roam. Time slips by....
     the moon watches and the cicada
     sing. As the sun rises a sadness
     creeps in. We cannot get enough
     of each other; our passion and
     love are insatiable. The night...