Brown Velvet box

Sometimes, in the dark hours, when the birds in the parking garage are silent, and all I can hear is the shushing of the tires of the homebound late shift workers, I think about you.

I try to remember the good times, the times in Technicolor, filled with heart and soul so deep all I could see was rich, brown velvet.
In a box,

that velvet climbed up the walls, caressed the bottom, contained my heart and closed it in, with cover tight. We had a thing that I am unable to name. Your face was my face, I was you and you were me…I think.

But when the chips were on the table, when it was time to show our cards, you folded. Folding, for me, was not an option. I played my hand, but it wasn’t big enough for you, wasn’t high enough, wasn’t dear enough, because you walked away from the table.

The ripple from your exit still nudges my boat.

Your hateful, negligent rhetoric and absence ripped great, bleeding wounds so deep inside me, that even now when I remember then, 
the scar tissue tingles faintly.

I was never able to let you go, because you see, you were careless enough to leave part of you with me. Funny that you didn’t even miss those parts. You were so full of yourself that those tiny, flickering flames you left me never had the power to make you turn, to look, to see how, as time progressed in my world, those flames became the light with which I traversed my world.

Now I am just I.

And you are living on another planet. I would not want you, or anyone to open that box for me, because you see, my heart was locked inside it. Lid tightly closed, It sits, in shock, unable to move beyond. I’ve tried. I don’t have the technology.

But I’ve learned to persevere. Which is different than to thrive, and in persevering I was able to release my self to those brilliant flames, that you chose to ignore for year upon years. 

So you may now have one of those flames, and I dearly pray you don’t do or say anything to snuff it out. This one needed you; she had always possessed the uncanny talent to get exactly what she wanted.

It’s not for me to say whether it’s right or wrong, it just is. But let me assure you, here and now, if you hurt or damage that flame in any way, I will come after you with a wrath you’ve never even imagined I possessed.

..Petitions of the Heart......The Mountain.

Day turned to night and night to day.  And still he sat upon the mountain.
     "What does he hope to discover?"  thought the angel who sat by his side, unseen by the man.
"Does he know that there are endless endings?"
     "Does he know that he is master of his own fate?"
"Does he think the answer will show itself to him in some sort of magical way?"

The man sighed and the angel relaxed and looked out to the horizon where the man was staring.
   "Dear God," spoke the man.  The angel said Amen and turned to the man to hear what he was going to say to God.
"I am only a man," he paused and cleared his throat.  "I thought that what I was doing was right and so I continued to do it.  And now I am suddenly older and I am no longer sure.  I thought I had all the answers to all the questions.  But now I have questions for which my usual method of finding answers doesn't work.  My patterns are so tightly formed.  I don't know how to get beyond this point.  I am asking for something from you."

The angel nodded his head.  "Good," he thought, "This man really does know the answers; time will help him to see.  Time, faith and truth."

The angel wrapped his wing around the man and the man felt its warmth.  And a gentle thought entered his mind, "Follow your heart.  Wherever it takes you is the right place."

And the sun broke through the clouds and the man left the mountain.

subjective subject

can a person be objective when discussing a subjective subject? if , for more time than you can place numbers to, you only remember being in a dark place.......sticky, moaning, flitting shadows, saturated with the unknown threats that hide in the cracks of silence.

finding happiness is our lifelong goal. but, in fact, this statement reverberates with untruth. each human is endowed with relative free will. what is it that we were created to accomplish. surely there’s a bottom line reason. gone. all are gone. we create them, randomly. then we attempt to direct them. then they grow, then they look around, and see what?
we live to what end? the confusion is so total. the veil is so complete. alone. we are all, in the end, alone.

a slamming door has meaning. a slamming door has no meaning. silence has meaning. we create silence. we create the chaos that invades silence. I am me. and who, I ask, is that? I’m thinking that maybe, with a little energy, with a little time, by the end of time, I may be close to an answer.. never the whole answer. how can we know. but a small answer. my tiny answer. life revolves. I think that without inventors humans would still be dressed in animal skins, and getting their water from ponds. some humans are endowed with abilities to cause change, most are not. tiny circles. most are tiny circles.


flush out the lines. clean. yes. clean. no pain. no breathing problems. no headaches. to understand to feel me. alive. alive. my own life. the part of my life that was given to others is over. free to choose my next move. no consultations. no considerations. experience this life. right