Did Destiny Bring Choices, or Do Choices Become Destiny? by Brent M. Jones →
Do people enter our lives
for a reason?
Do they arrive
to change our direction,
open doors we had not seen,
or show us a path
we might never have found alone?
Perhaps they bring a lesson,
a question,
a possibility.
Perhaps they change us
simply by being there.
We may call it destiny,
chance,
or providence.
But whatever brings someone
or something into our lives,
what happens next
still asks something of us.
A choice.
We can step through the open door
or turn away.
We can accept the lesson
or ignore it.
We can change
or remain where we are.
Perhaps destiny does not decide
who we become.
Perhaps it only brings us
to the moment
when we must decide for ourselves.
Destiny may bring the moment.
Choice determines what we do with it.
Poem: Consider the Journey by Brent M. Jones →
Consider the Journey
by Brent M. Jones
The goodness of people found along the way.
Some came for a reason, some blocked the way.
The sun appeared, then came the rain.
Peace was felt, but so was pain.
I look ahead; clarity leaves me.
Which path should I follow?
Where is the true light showing the way?
Will mistakes still happen if I always do right?
The journey is amazing.
Still, I need an anchor for the night
Embracing the randomness,
Hoping for light.
This poem was written while reflecting on the unpredictable nature of growth, connection, and the winding paths we walk. Some people guide us. Some challenge us. And often, we’re left navigating between peace and uncertainty, light and shadow. Consider the Journey is about finding meaning in the midst of all that, not by having answers, but by staying open to the questions.
Anamorphic Power of Tears (a Poem by Brent M. Jones →
Tears fall like rain
Wisdom follows pain
Water flows, tears stain
Tears gone, without crying
Tears digested, considered wisdom
Some still regarded with disdain
A Crown of Rust: Reflections on Time, Decay, and Beauty →
A Crown of Rust
By Brent M. Jones
Once a symbol of pride and grace,
A noble giant held its place.
Now it slouches in the silent grass,
Time and weather let it pass.
Rusted roof to ironed base,
Its glory is lost without a trace.
No craft can bring its shine again
The sky, the storm, the steady rain.
Faded hues in morning light,
A crown of rust still clings on tight.
Some call it ruin, some call it art
Where time gave way, the rust took heart.
Thoughts about the Poem
Thoughts About the Poem
Art is, at its core, a process of searching—of seeking meaning, beauty, or understanding through creation. What stirs in the artist’s mind when they pause before a rusted-out automobile or any object marked by time and decay?
Rust, after all, isn’t just corrosion. Its deep red-brown hue belongs to the red family—a color often associated with passion, energy, and emotional charge. It brings a space to life, not despite its decay, but because of it.
When we create, we navigate a mental landscape filled with possibility. We search for a form, a feeling, a fragment of truth. The medium matters. And rust—so rich in texture, tone, and metaphor—isn’t just the end result of time. It can also be the artist’s destination, a sign that the search for meaning has arrived somewhere honest, raw, and real.
#rRust #Rustinforms #RustArt #RustReflectsLife
The Dance of Thoughts, a Poem by Brent M. Jones →
The Dance of Thoughts
And when the day is done,
And the darkness has begun,
My thoughts become my guide,
Leading me to peace inside.
So let them dance and play,
These thoughts come my way.
For they are a part of me,
And in them, I am free.
The heart still rules,
