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Whether I see a mountain or the valley below is contingent upon my orientation. Destinations are defined by action and direction. The Garden and The Infernoare in opposite directions on the same path,pleasure and pain separated only by a gate. Sitting on the fence leads nowhere. © 2026 Bruno Talerico64/365.
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The foreword to a novel, painted in crude brush strokes,is usually written after the story’s end. Several hundred million years have elapsedfrom the first amphibian crawling on landuntil a creature existed on this planet,that could describe that event. I exist in this moment,unique offspring of that crawling amphibian,a lone, frail primate,bearing consciousness of the universe.…
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We fear beginning without knowingwhen we will be done. Living is ourflesh and blood adventure.Spirits journeying togetherinto waiting after lives. Human beings: One day we’re born, we live, we grieve,we celebrate, and one daywe pass onto become ancestors. It all matters. Life is not linear.It is cyclical and labyrinthine,obstacles, solutions, learningsand unlearning, ebb and flow.…
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Blossoms flutter on ancient trees,still capable of bearing fruit. A black bird fully formed takes flight.Some paths are more hazardous than others. Select a wrong one, and the destination grows farther with each wing beat. Each detour, each obstacle, an opportunity. The quest is its own reward. Some words are old, their significance forgotten.Bits are…
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Life is good againSpring flowers thrust up through soilseeking the sunlight © 2026 Bruno Talerico60/365
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Lilly leprechaun requests a limerick on cuea rhyme for St. Pat’s boo hoorhyming’s a choreand oh, such a boreseems pixies are mischievous too. © 2026 Bruno Talerico59/365
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Warrior king Wotanwas a trickster and wandererwith wizard’s hat and walking stick. When seated on his great throne,attended by ravens named Thought and Memory,he could behold everything in the world. From Cape Royalon the north rim of the Grand Canyon,one can observe the butte,a wonder known as Wotan’s Throne. I believe from there,you could behold…
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The sun touches golden grassin a certain way.Same sun, same grass every day,yet different. Tall trees draw water from Mother Earththen store Father Sun in dark green leaves.Same sun, same trees every day,yet different. The sun touches each of us in a certain way.Same sun, same beings every dayyet different. © 2026 Bruno Talerico57/365
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Since we met and conversedabout nature, stars, energy,I can’t not think about you. Even when I’m not thinking,it’s about you,all of it,plants, moon, birdsong. When I try not to think of you,I think of you. What does it mean whenyou can’t not think about someone? © 2026 Bruno Talerico56/365
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Nature’s rainshould only be stoppedwhen it threatens flood and destruction. Rain is necessary for growth.Flowers only bloomif they have both rain and sun. The secret of stopping tears-of-the-heartis first, to listen to the painin the hearts of friends, strangers, and lovers, then stop the pain not by condemningbut by forgiving their weaknesses. Tears-of-the-heartshould only be…
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Desert Dweller 