Jason // June 11 // 2 Comments

Being constantly defeated by greater beings,
Beaten by the storms of life until the lessons of all ages have been heard.
As the winds of change howl their coarse and painful words,
The run away reflex fires it’s starting pistol to challenge my resolve.

To stay is to grow, I know, to run is to hide, I know.
Let life beat it’s hearty rhythm on the skin of my back,
Until I bleed from the claws of the wise ones.
From these tender wounds may come the scar tissues of the man I need to be.

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    About the Author Jason

    Jason follows his lifelong vocation as a countryside photographer who tries to catch the spirit of the places he visits. After decades working as a professional editorial photographer he now focuses much of his time on conceptual fine art photography, visual storytelling and in aiding others to follow their creative calling.

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