Music is my obsession. It influences my thoughts, my emotions, and my work. It stirs my soul and is an essential ingredient to my existence. Please join in and share your thoughts as well in the comment boxes on each piece. The beauty of song is that there is something out there for each and every one of us.
Kymberlie Ingalls is native to the Bay Area in California. She is a pioneer in blogging, having self-published online since 1997. Her style is loose, experimental, and a journey in stream of consciousness.
Works include personal essay, prose, short fictional stories, and a memoir in progress.
Thank you for taking a moment of your time to visit. Beware of the occasional falling opinions. For editing services: http://www.kymberlieingalls.com/p/editing-services.html
I walk into brick walls often, many admonish me to
look where I'm walking.Blindness isn't
always in the eyes of the beholder.Sometimes it's the darkness of a mind, the beating of a black
Even the blind can see.
We see through the scent of a cloud whispering from a far
away sky, through the touch of a breeze that's traveled around the world to
greet us.We see through the sounds of a
lonely piano where great passions are spilled forth to dance as a fire licks
the night air.
Mine is a hysterical blindness in that it keeps me from
seeing the moments mercifully buried, but I live in fear of what could possibly
be blacker than the horrors remaining unseen in my memory. Happiness is fleeting; I find myself living those moments as often as possible, while I scribble in the moon's light trying to recover what's been lost.
Long have been the nights that I've slashed my veins to
write in blood red ink, chasing my demons into the midnight.Or... am I the one pursued?It is in those hours that I look for
something tangible, anything to bind me to a world of realism, and not the
twisted turns of my mystical whirlstorms.When the ivory sings to me, its voice comes from the soul of another,
and as I strive to be heard, I am calmed by common expressions.The soothing touch of a human hand allows me
to toss my words about without fear of falling alone.