Bobby Beausoleil Reference Archive

Bobby BeauSoleil

Keeping his timeless silent vigil the sentinel sits tall in the saddle casting a long shadow on the plane of a dimension betwixt losing and finding out unfazed by the din of lost souls howling and screaming like monkeys for the attention of mothers now ghosts

A bereft bighouse sparrow chirps incessantly his staccato call for a mate or just a friend a rival if it comes to that his chirruping echoes down the long hall it almost seems that he is answered so he flies its length to see the one he seeks just out of view

A world seen through grimy windows offering promises long unkept sunbeams play on cobwebs and old paint making cave paintings on manmade stone and imposter fireflies from the dust motes like those pesky persistent thoughts rattling in the skull like wooden beads offerings to be burned on the altar of the heart

Wandering the bowels of labyrinthine dream one good turn deserves a hundred more until finding the door to escape at last only to awaken in another dream where the joke pretending to be peace is a masquerade for the gap between wars glories sublime in unimaginable horror the history games of desire and suffering

The sentinel observes it all unblinking unmoved by pleas for intervention by desire for winning or fear of failing the parade of fools unrecognizing the seeker’s search for truth unchanging knowing the peace without an opposite there to be found in the immensity of space between the falling and rising of breath