For fear of spreading myself too thin, I started writing this letter who knows how many years ago when I first realized my days were numbered
So, if you find it difficult to envision me in some areas as I am now, that makes two of us.
To all who are only really concerned with the proceedings of my will, it is contained in this letter towards the end.
Without further ado
Welcome to my life, and...
I am tired
Lord am I tired
Pushing the same tire up a mountain
But it’s flat and
The slope is steep
And the aching numbed
Bones in my feet
But I will persevere
What’s fueling me
Is the strength in my heart
When it’s buried deep
I am thankful for this suffering
Obsession with the process
Trekking up this mountain
Is an honest testing of my conscience
For every time I strive for mo...
They say to do it for the hell of it
But forget about the Heaven
Of the moments in between
After
The laughter, the rosy red blemish
The lean on the shoulder,
The slight nudge to get closer
Moments captured in rafters
Raptured by laughter
Ravaged by
And wrapped in
A pristine melody, a song
Of memories to be
Stripped down to
Naked humanity
Not of savage depravity
But where dreams begin to ...
On the advent of change
The swinging pendulum between
Love and pain
The somber look through
The window pane
The left turn on the freeway
The tumbling of the blocks
You so carefully arrange
And the opportunity
For them to be
New
Or the same
Or put together in an all new way
To be forced to turn around
Is to change your perspective
To the trail you’ve been following
And a chance to cor...
The subconscious manifests
A conscience consequence
Of the context in reflex
Reflections compacted
In fractions
The traction of which
Sits to soak
In the marbling of our being
A bengign but hard to find
Fine confined line
That exists in not what we do
But our why
You say there might be a distance
A stark dissonance
In what exists and
What we manifest
But the feelings in our dreams
Wh...
Petrichor.
Simply put, it would smell like petrichor.
The smell of knowing what will follow but never how
And the knowledge to discern why but not the power, or the desire, to stop it.
The rain will come, yes, but in what pattern which each individual drop fall? Will it hit uneven ground and cause a rockslide? Will it seep into, shift tectonic plates?
Create disaster out of no one’s mistake...
Is it right for me to be tired?
With all that I ask for?
With all that I’m given?
To embrace the sickly green veins as they bulged from my hands
In pain
In effort
An effervescent always-present straining of the eyes
Streaming of the knowledge
The red in them
Flowing from heart to brain
Brain to heart
Soul to earth
Toil for soil
For life to form from it
Am I deserving of this ...
Do my words reach you?
Even with the apprehension to share
The fickle will to tell you my feelings
My ideas
What hurts to keep inside
Am I layered thick enough?
With rhetoric and stanzas
Devices, sufficed in rhyme
Schema and rhythm and tempo
Cadence to every line
To make the pill invisible when swallowed
To make the words clear enough when followed
Clear enough to wonder
And ask yourself ...
It was a shockingly beautiful sunset for an average thursday afternoon
It weaved its way through trees to string up streams in shadows
A nearby kite casting the silhouette of a star saying hi
A shirtless man slowing down his pace to brisk jog, enjoying his scenery
A couple
A young woman kicking sand while she walked, as to not let it get in the eyes of the clumsy man next to her
A young ...
Something beyond the stars beckoned to her
Told her that in her weaknesses
She was strongest
For she understood the impossible to understand
Because she believed that whatever was beyond the stars
Made the stars
And the stars made her
The dust to ground to body
Her split rib glimmered
As it would in the sky
Shined in her voice
Blinded those that looked in her eyes
And eneveloped them in be...