!mpulse

I don’t believe in guilt, I believe in living on impulse as long as you never intentionally hurt another person, and don’t judge people in your life. I think you should live completely free.

Meet!ng

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.

(Carl Jung)

Creat!on

The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.

(Carl Jung)

!The abyss

He who fights with monsters

might take care lest he thereby become a monster.

And if you gaze for long into an abyss,

the abyss gazes also into you.

The ocean’s w!de expanse

The late afternoon sky flaunted its splendour of blue and gold like a banner over the Pacific, across whose depths the trade wind droned in measured cadence. On the ocean’s wide expanse a hulk wallowed sluggishly, the forgotten relict of a once brave and sightly ship, possibly the Sphinx of some untold ocean tragedy, she lay black and forbidding in the ordered procession of waves.

The Ca!! of the North

Beyond the butternut,

beyond the maple,

beyond the white pine and the red,

beyond the oak, the cedar,

and the beech,

beyond even the white and

yellow birches lies a Land,

and in that Land the shadows

fall crimson across the snow.

Mark Thompson Artist

The Call of the North

Wh!spers

Love;

a soft breath

in midnight whispers

slipping beneath silken sheets

You;

the sun’s warmth

a caressive wind

sliding over golden sands

Me;

night’s embrace

a kiss in the rain

falling into Autumn leaves

Us;

winter’s hush

wrapped in feathered quilts

reflections in firelight.

Ch!ld of Pa!n

Beyond the dark,

Is there light?

Beyond the doubt,

Is there hope?

Past the pain,

Is there freedom?

Among the tears,

Is there joy?

What lies beyond these darkened days?

Is there a way to heal to the child of pain?

Card!ff H!ll

Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. (Mark Twain)

Remnant – Mark Thompson

Mark Thompson