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Welcome to Pensive Leaves!

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     Hello, and welcome to Pensive Leaves! Whether you weathered the recesses of the internet to reach these digital shores by course of intent, or perhaps landed here by accident - the result of some algorithmic clicking induced rabbit hole, you've made it! But, where is that? And, just what exactly is Pensive Leaves? That question I can answer easy enough, but it's perhaps the better question, 'what are  pensive leaves', that requires more explanation.      I'm Garrett, and Pensive Leaves is simply a place for me to share with you, dear reader, fragments, reflections and vignettes of life that intrigue me. Here you'll find anything from poems to musings old and new, and it is my hope that you will also find something that inspires the soul and incites further creativity. My intent with this blog is to be just as much an outlet for myself as it is for you so that we may find in each other kindred spirits.       I've always been pas...
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Ireland Diaries: Prologue

   Over the familiar chime of the door as I walked into Black Press, a local coffee shop and one of my longtime haunts, I overheard the barista talking with a customer about their upcoming move down the street to a suite in a brand-new shopping center right in the middle of town.      "Yeah", she said, "Sunday is our last day here. We'll be moving in and ready to go at the new place on Monday."      "Sunday", I thought... "Sunday is the day I move to Ireland."      I expressed this to the barista and told her it looked like I'd be leaving with the old building.      "An end of an era..." she said. Truly, it is.      I am moving to Ireland. It sounds so wholly random to the average ear, but unbeknownst to many, I have long held a deep spiritual connection to the British Isles - the lands of my Celtic ancestors, and Ireland especially has always occupied a special place in my heart. As if the ...
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A Poem on the Importance of Speaking

You sit in the center of the Mecca sites of socialization. Yet, you are alone - cannot speak to anyone. The unsaid words churn unborn and immature in your chest with a burn that could set this whole place ablaze. Faced with temptation in the midst of the source of your vice, the chatter grows louder - growing prouder of your perception it’s keeping you subdued. All you want is to speak - to feel whole, to exhale, relieve the pressure and rejoin your race together in revelry now. You remember the last time that feeling was yours, and the memory haunts you and disorients you. But, illusory ghosts aren’t real. The curse is from you. The demon is from you and you must exercise to exorcise. To stop, drop, and roll takes action. Move. Otherwise succumb to the fate of the thinker and let the words, feelings, emotions burn in your chest - destined to join the rest of your past in your locked cache of ashes.
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