Adrift in time (for the Sunday Muse #244)

 As the boat filled with the salty unwanted, and uninvited fridged sea water I knew this was it, my last adventure. This journey hadn’t been all bad, it started out on such a beautiful note with many most pleasing images, sounds and textures, in a kaleidoscope fitting for such a good day. Drifting upon the vibe, current carried and, basking in the sunlight carefreely careless, no worries in site, immerge in the moment.  But, as it always happens, the but came, and the mood quickly shifted as the peace was rapidly replaced with the danger of the open ocean. The tune had changed, now, it seemed the fiddler was on fire as Rome fiddled. Seeing no way out of this impending predicament, paddleless thoughts all led to a gasping for air, a gurgling of going ghost.  As the tiny boat lost all buoyancy, the shift of float sank, and the song ended. I found myself thoroughly gratified being pulled into its tale of the seafaring life, thankful for the images shared and then, the radio started playing  “The Lazy Song”.  

You

 Standing on the edge of heaven, this mountain top we’ve hiked to on this early predawn morning is still cloaked in darkness. The moist dew does not weaken our shared emotion, soaked in happiness, my hand wrapped tightly around yours as we await the sunrise. The air, so crisp seems to ricochet the tiniest of sounds as the birds begin to stir from their rest, leaving their nests. As the first ray suddenly shoots towards the sky I shiver slightly, knowing the secret I have inside me will explode if the sun hesitates a moment longer. Your smile begins to show as the sky hugs the sun, the glow building rapidly, and I drop to my knee facing you. Before I can say a word, your mouth opens, eyes now fully exposed and beaming like the growing rays of hope. “YES” you shout, “Yes” “yes” repeats the echo from the canyon below, “A million times YES”…It was in that moment, that sweeter than all my life before moment that I truly knew. The universe had known what I had dreamed of all my life and had just now, truly opened my eyes to what I was unknowingly missing. You. 

Dying Words

 

His mind was no longer being used, its true calling, now broken in a single moment. In the chaos of shattered words, his, were now lying upon the floor in a disheveled pile. Adjectives could no longer help him, form a single thought nor lift his dying spirits and the verbiage that once flowed from his fingertips trembled silently in the corner. All he knew at this moment was that his sentence structure couldn’t help him, for what he felt, the pain, the betrayal, neither were in his vocabulary.  And so, he lashed out, though foolishness had never been familiar, he acted swiftly and without thought and walked out the door.

The weight of the world had most definitely increased exponentially in his life, and not just from the 4’ of snow that had been threatening to collapse the roof of the cabin, no, he was pretty sure the fire would be the solution to that problem. As the flames leaped into the darkening heavens, his story literally was falling from the sky. The explosion had been epic, the gas tanks in the basement went up, yet left the house standing. That befuddled him slightly as he realized he was without a coat in the dead of winter. Only the flames now separated him from hyperthermia and a slow death. But even more poignant to him was how he felt nothing as the pages of his unfinished novel spun wildly in the wind, landing on and around him. He stepped back, his feet pressing down on the pages of his words, half on fire, grinding them into the snow. The sounds of the fire rapidly consuming the structure was almost deafening yet all he could hear was her voice and, in that moment, he knew, she had never loved him. Not only had his work in the relationship been for nothing, but the novel in itself also lived from that lie and he did not wish to ever be reminded of that. He laughed a little when part of the roof
slid off and landed on her car, “poetic” he spoke out loud, for he was certain her new boyfriend's rental would get them to their awaiting paradise. He warmed himself once again, stepping closer and then turned, and walked away knowing in his heart the new words to a new story awaited him just down the road.    

Not my first rodeo

 What can I say, I had my heart safely corralled and out of the blue she was able to lasso me and pull me into her fading sunset, but now, I'm out to pastured again and this time, it's going stick. I am back to where I started, happy with MY life, and I don't need anyone to complicate my completeness. Do not get me wrong, somewhere down that dusty road, it could happen, but if you see me smiling again, please don't feel the need to interject yourself into my rodeo, because the seats looking in are much better and I ain't giving out backstage passes.     

Not meaning for this to sound in any way conceded, just me telling me, how I am.  

Channeling His Tale

 

 

I struggle to find the words, lost between time, tears and my fingertips, they want so badly to come out and see the light of even this gloomy day. Each letter of each word feels frozen like an ice cycle hanging before my watery eyes, yet they remain untouchable until the spring thaw. I try to seek out some sort of pattern, hoping to make a sentence, which hopefully could turn into a paragraph, but I fail to connect those dots. Instead, as my mind races, I have these stray thoughts appear like soft smoke on a warm evening, forming circles of words just before drifting into that night air, each seemingly calling out "ME" "ME" as if fighting for my attention….as I record these to paper I see the story of a man standing alone, perhaps upon a dock or pier, staring out into the raging sea, he seems to be calling out as he cups his hands to his weathered face, the waves crashing again and again at his feet, each one pulling him towards the sea below. And then he is gone. The words stop and the visons from them disappear. I franticly fumble to find them praying he is still there, that he has not tumbled into the vast wasteland of my writer’s block.  

But it is not to be. The sounds of this old house interrupts and dogs wanting attention take my mind away from what was so vivid seconds ago, I reach down and scratch my pups head and then his brothers, dinner is the word that now fills this space and I am the only one with opposable thumbs so I must go…..but in my mind, the story that man is waiting to tell me is unforgettably waiting for me.

When a song changes the day

I awake from the numbness of sleep, jarred from my slumber by a song playing in the distance. I struggle to identify it….I know the tune, and the words are just a little to soft to say YES that’s it, yet. I listen, intently, like a detective on a case, I need to know this. I sit up, concentrating with all I can muster in the dawns early light and then, I hear it clearly…….Let It Be……and I smile, muscles no longer tensed up in the rude awakening that required my attention, and I realize something, for the first time in my life, the "battle" in my head isn't, is it the tune that matters the most, nor, is it the words…..I am at a musical crossroads…..I am enjoying the SONG………..

 

I realize, this is such a simple thing, but its taken me all my life to just, Let It Be……

Survival

Today, I am reminded. Reminded that this welling up of emotion is not caused by this, now, never-ending rain, but that just beneath my surface, lies the rawness of what I pray time shall remove. You. 

I no longer need to remember your voice. I will not benefit from ever feeling your touch, nor learning the rest of you. Your kiss is redundant. The moments that made your day special, or sad, no longer resonates inside my heart. The collected memories, need to fade into this night sky, for with you, I see that I must, forget it all. I am not able nor equipped to keep the pleasant pieces and play with them on moonless nights, no. I must erase it all to survive this. I must let it all wash away in the river of tears. You and I. Once my world, is now, my hell.  

My energy is now focused on where my socks are, and why are my keys in the refrigerator, again. Did I feed the dogs or pay a bill and the rest of the endlessly dull things that are my life, is now where I let my mind roam. That future that was us, is dissolving, rather slowly, with the passing of time, and I now pray the same time, takes the rest of you away.

Healing at the speed of sound

 I release my tears, alone in nature, as the river carries them to the vastness of the sea where they can never find me again. The self-induced fog I hide my emotions behind seems to part where I stand, revealing the beauty I am surrounded by and the death of my heart is comforted by the soothing rapids, reminding me, that this too shall pass. I pick myself up once again, stepping to the water's edge, I throw the round green ball that drives my pup crazy, and, in that single moment, I remember what my purpose is.  

January 2nd, 2023

 In this vastness of new days ahead, with so many unwritten stories that await us all, I wish for you:

Peace

Contentment

Fury Friends

Kindness

Faith

Freedom

Wonder

Adventure

Harmony

Awareness

Humility 

Purpose

Joy

Love

And an open heart.

May we all see even the tiniest of blessings and be grateful for each of those moments, each and every day, and may we lift up one another leaving no one to suffer alone.

A new year

 Walls once neglected, now stand fully erect, if only to contain the broken parts of the heart, each piece emits its own tiny, faded beat, all randomly echoing like sonar in a last ditched effect to regroup as one. The healed cracks from the past, still visible, run parallel, often crossing these new torn lines. Somehow, as if from memory, the painful lesson doesn't stop it all together, instead, and against my wishes, they deliver enough blood for me not to die.  

It doesn't seem possible, for we humans are supposed to learn from our mistakes and grow away from such foolishness. It only took me once to learn to keep my fingers from fire, to respect heights and to come in out of the cold. So why, why do we return to, often the same scene and become repeat offenders when it comes to matters of our hearts?  Is it hope? Is it even logical? To keep trying to love someone only to discover you've once more been dealt a losing hand and no matter how much we try to raise the pot, it burns us. Love seems to be the sole emotion that we willingly run with scissors like a small child testing his mom. We simply refuse to stop poking that bear holding our hearts, instead knowing that a long winter of sadness awaits should that bear turn on us. Live and learn? This fool hasn't.