Haiku

Can't know if it's real
Walk this moonlit path with me
'Til the sun comes up

No More

I am not who you think I am 

But I am everything you dream

Snaking in and out of your thoughts

Like tiny streams of water, moving in 

And out of cyclops rocks

You can't pick me up or hold me

But you can feel the way I move

Cold, wet and ambiguously alive

Like a possible phantom that whispers,

"Once."

I disguise myself, throw myself

At you, hoping you'll notice,

I fall from the sky and seep into your skin,

On days when all you have is rain

I bless your feet in the early morning chill

When you step into the grass out of sleep

When you're hot and thirsty

I am your everlasting drink

So when tears drop from your eyes

As you sit on the rocks by the shore

I am there, coming and going

Always joined by your sadness

Still, when the person you think I am

Is no more

Haiku

My mind, it sees what

My hands create what my heart

Will come to destroy

Illumination

New label for Enlightenment Ales:  Illumination.  The concept is that this is a "sister" beer to Enlightenment.  We wanted to have Enlightenment be very symbolic, artistically conceptual, and Illumination to be a "real world" disguised version of the concept of Enlightenment.  In a sense, when one sees beyond the natural world they would see (experience) Enlightenment.  Illumination is merely the beginning of the process of unveiling, which can be seen when one takes a moment to truly appreciate and see the beauty in the natural world.

                                                                                                (Enlightenment)

Humility

On my belly I slithered forth
Naked Inching my way through a
Cavernous despair And when I cried, "Have mercy, Father!"
My echoes, heavy footed, trodded toward me;
A preoccupied mother
That could only enable my fear

Mediocre splinters of the Divine
Trickled down like liquid jewels
At indistinct moments
That ebbed in and out of Time

I

Screamed thunder, believing
That the stones would rupture
Pile on top of me
if I must be where the pieces fall
Long as I could catch a glimpse of
This fabled Love

But the brevity of cold sleeping always
Promised
That these were not moments
But dreams

My eyes opened to blindness
And I lurched on
With only wet wounds
Speaking in Agony's tongue
To tell me the secrets of a strong and thriving Heart
"Listen closely," they say
"Between each beat
The mind gently chants,
'The voice of the Father
Is a dream'"

The Misunderstanding, by Albert Camus - BETC Theatre Production

An audience member who say the production through Boston.com wrote this comment:

"This was an extraordinary night of theatre. Camus's play is so dark, so full of deep dwelling into profound ideas. The art design was alluring. It was stunning to watch the actors throw so much into their roles. One of the best plays I've seen this year."

Greek Masks For "The Misunderstanding"

Made with Rigid Wrap and acrylic paint!