The Breaking Time

Hibernation Time

In the meantime, have some cute

Hello dear readers. As usual, I'll offer my apologies for the dearth of content here lately, and to let you know it will be a bit before more is forthcoming.

I've titled this post "hibernation" because it's going to be a little longer than an intermission. There's a number of really key posts I've struggled to get done for months. These range from explaining a little more what I mean by a Breaking Time, and "There Is No They" to why exactly I focus on power so dang much.

Life hasn't been accommodating. I write here aside from putting in 50-60 hours a week as a working journalist and sadly, that means I don't always get the time to devote to this that I wish.

Also, the lack of time (and resources) has similarly infringed on improvements I've wanted to make here, so I'm going to try to get at least a few of those straightened out too. Here's hoping.

Important things are worth doing right. So I'm going to take several weeks, try to get at least a few of those key posts done, tweak the site a bit and return.

I'll be back,

David Forbes

Poems for Friday: Where the sidewalk ends

A favorite since childhood, and Shel Silverstein is perfect for a busy week.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.