To be Quoted…

Tonight I was thinking of my father… he has been on my mind lately (although he never leaves my thoughts)… It is June and this month has always been for me and my dad. Our birthdays are two days apart… they run on Fathers day weekend… most of the time…

So I was thinking of my father…I have been trying to remember all his lines, sayings, quirks… many lost in translation, but gained in accent 😉 . We were originally from Romania…I have lived in the United States for most of my life, my father restarted and finished his life here. It is and has always been home.

He had the biggest heart and the kindest Soul… his passions exceeded his expectations… I have mentioned all that I loved about my father previously… so tonight an ode to my fathers lines, sayings and quirks…

Ode to Silviu

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Loved to cook, never clean, each and every cabinet door left open, flour and eggs on the ceiling,

with a smile and pride… “my work is finished… ;)”

 

“Are there any cooooocumbers”… an emphasis on the “ooooo”

 

I love crepes, and my father made them the best! however he once made the mistake of calling them “craps” lets just say it stuck around.

 

During his last few years he was often tired… but it never stopped him from writing. That was never his profession… always his dream. Sometimes I would get to the house late… I always knew where he was, down stairs in his “office”… a little den in the basement… all his own… It is not the same 

Sometimes I was rushed and missed out on our talks… but when we caught up… it was perfect…

(sorry dad for that… I have slowed down a bit)

 

This is a little secret I never shared…

We were leaving my sisters wedding at the same time… he was driving in front of me on the highway to show me the way… Then we got to the intersection where I recognized… (this is going to sound bad and irresponsible, but if you would have known my day you would get it)… he wanted to race, so here we are on the hutch and we are speeding, it was only for a minute, but it was a memory I will never forget…

 

He was so proud of his culinary abilities… based in “Romanian Cuisine”…  I would eat that food everyday if I could… but something about my dad, when he cooked… he was a great chef… really… except for…

the dish I will never forget … Tripe soup… It was one of the grossest things I had ever smelled…  the whole family grabbed the pot of soup and threw it outside… never again… we talked about that one forever…

 

Or his compassion for tele-marketers and Jahovas witnesses. Wether it was boredom, or his sense of humor… tele-marketers would call… my dad would turn them around… start questioning them… he would make them forget what they are doing… he was good at confusing people… 😉

 

One day two Jahovas came to the door… now for all who are super religious… I mean this in the utter most respect for all faiths… my dad had very strong beliefs as well…

Two Jahovas Witnesses came to the door… My dad knew who they were and what they wanted… so he invited them in (if they only knew)…

They began thier preaching and information… my father said “alright you want me to listen about your religion, ok first listen about mine…” after ten minutes they suddenly had to leave… I couldn’t believe it… hadn’t had any visitors since then…

 

I could go on forever… but for know I raise my head and smile… 

Here’s to you Dad… an ode to Silviu

May I be quoted one day with love and humor and the warmest of memories…

Angels

Angles are gathering

They listen contently

They feel with our knowledge

They hurt with our mistakes

 

Ignorant of time

Aware of Life

Understanding only God

Seeing only Light

 

They hear cries

They see sacrifice

They see strife

They see 

Yet to them it matters not

They see, they feel 

its all relative to angles

To them Life is a gift

 

They are misunderstood
As is Father

They do not judge
Neither does Father

Cant they see our lives falter?

when will they learn?
Cant they see we are tired?

when will they feel?
Cant they relay the messages?
Cant they tell Father?

When will the know?
They are His eyes and ears

They do not understand

To them Life is a Gift

A gift to us

A gift of burden

A beautiful burden

 

Catch us
We are falling
From Grace
From our sanctuary

Tell our Father
Tell our God

 

Angels read these words and understand

Alone in your mind…

You sat there
Alone in your mind

I reached into your soul
Knelt in silence

Waiting for the call

I could not bury my thoughts
Until you gave in

We are alone
Yet we are one

We reach for light
We find darkness in sight

You helped me carry this gift
Opened and found our worlds

We are alive in a fantasy
Imagine the possibilities

What is real…
what we see?

You sit there
Alone in your mind

In the middle of your thoughts
I walked through

You gazed upon me
I acknowledged you

Phantasmagoria

With a sense of adventure
I begin my endeavor

In my mind I drift
Towards a mission

A journey

An expedition 

Time will be best

Lest it run on our future quest

 

The dream that soars
Constantly changing
Forever evolving

I slip into subconscious worlds
I drift into my souls abyss
I look out across the minds oceans

I know not where I am
I care not where I am

Here we are free
Free in a subconscious prison
Free to our souls mission

For what truly is freedom

We as Earth and sky
We as Wind and air
We as Ocean and sea
We as Ice and Fire

We play our souls desire
Forever changing landscape
Forever growing in our minds
All to be brought forth in phantasmagoria
All in a fumbled attempt to recreate

Then we slip back to consciousness
We slip back to our waking worlds
We leave our temporary haven
As we wake
As we open our eyes….

We slip away from the grasp of our Soul

Escaping our Prison 

In Utopia

 

Its Phantasmagoria

Enreal’s Tale

Enreal’s Ever changing tale… 

We watch the sky from our Cafe Philos. Then our gaze travels to Aeode, she’s musing. What a Candleday indeed to think free on Earth’s pages, on our esoteric journey, with a gypsy hearti wish i could tell you… These indeed are idea’s worth spreading. They are a journey to the minds eye, hardly a just ordinary karma web

In the labyrinth of life, live love whateverjust look in the mirror… the reading of love letters… then mirror cracked… with demure restraint I catch these moments in time… as a muse catchermusings of the night… then turns the smokey mirror… almost perfect, spasmically perfect… on the Surface Earth, we meet the corner, the corner where the heart may speak… speak to the necromancer by the pear tree…or was it the wild pomegranate

To be meto be or not to be is the real questionfor truth is volatile… 

 

Thank you all for sharing my tale… it paints a pretty picture… it fits as perfectly as a puzzle… A thank you to all which make me whole… Enreal