There’s a line from Shakespeare that doesn’t get nearly the mileage it deserves in modern conversation: “We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.” It Continue Reading
Philosophy & Poetry
Perennial Hearts
By Ryan Mimna Time heals all wounds. But it heals in its own way. What is to be said about unspoken thoughts? Time heals all wounds. That Continue Reading
Shadows
By Ryan Mimna Dancing under the darkness of night,echoing songs of sunlight from streetlights. Mind speeding faster than light,uncertainty Continue Reading
The Fallacy of Youth
By Ryan Mimna The fallacy of youth lies in the same ideals inexplicably tied to it. Change, Rage, Hope, all wrapped in ideals that have Continue Reading
One Thing I Know
By Ryan Mimna Poetry comes for the soulAlways spoken, sometimes silentLike the rain, it speaks of painIt comes like the rain when it speaks Continue Reading
The Shaggy Dog
It comes from above and below.Nature. Death. The Shaggy Dog.Diogenes, what is our nature?The dog says it is the spirit of the soul.The spirit says it Continue Reading
Flying Freely, The B-52
The mighty airplane roars through the sky.A steel bird, behemoth on high,manned with a courageous flight crew,bringing destruction, committed to peace Continue Reading
Steer the Sun
These words were not written from theory or comfort. They were shaped through lived experience, prolonged observation, and exposure to both personal Continue Reading
Memory of You
By Ryan Mimna Grains of sand on the beachThoughts of yourselfInnumerable to countBut known in itselfBeautiful are our soulsEven if they can't Continue Reading
Darker Sights that Blight the Soul
Truly, it can take its toll Dark sightsRestless nightsForlorn thoughtsBlack and whiteIs beholden to greyNo wrong or rightMight makes rightPlight of Continue Reading
The Fear
I smelled it, the first time.The stink of Fear, underscored by the whites of his eyesIn the dead of night, We Men sent to take him-His children Continue Reading
Holding My Breath Before Knowing
Proud Gold Star Mother of Sgt. First Class Kristoffer Domeij The first casualty of war is not a body. It’s the breath held too long by a parent of Continue Reading