Some People Really Do What They Love

“Life comes down to this — you can do anything, there are no limits to what you can achieve, but you do have to decide what you want to do, and then get to doing it.” – One of the secrets of life

Why are we always waiting? It is the man, the woman; who does not wait – patient – but refuses to wait, who becomes successor to the gods

I sat for a long time with this. I let the music play until I did not recognize where I had been or where I was. I am sure where I started was seeking to find that fable of all fables, but that forever eternal is a frozen moment, not much longer than the instant it takes for a molecule of water to slow down to a freeze and move back into a flow with the temperature fluctuating the way it does. It’s a complex measure, in truth, we have no measure yet to define and capture all that is encompassed; apart from perhaps that indelible mark, the arrow that always strikes true on the person who is fully human. Love; Stronger than man-rejoicing wine? More inextricably linked as they share a similar visceral – guts on the table – joy, and dichotomy of honesty & deceit ever tearing. Yes, I sat for a long time and I would offer up the notion that love can stand to measure every nuance from end to end.

Some people really do what they love,
and others are driven beyond love
because it’s not enough. To them and I both,
I offer my felicitations – a belly full of wine
when and if the time ever comes.

What are you waiting for?

 

When You Sleep, Will It Be With Me

The hardest thing I’ve got to accept in my life is that my family’s choices are not me, they speak nothing of the value I hold, or how much  meaning is within me. I know they didn’t mean it. The choices they made were not because I am less than their personal drugs of the days and nights. I know these things, and I don’t want the intimacy I share with them to tear me apart. I want to stand tall without undermining my foundation. I want to breathe the hopeful sighs – After setting the pieces to heal – Where one steps back to let time do its’ part.

You know the days; The one’s where I’m so sure. So certain that I could walk right off the edge; And if I wanted to, come right back after going over like I’ve got control over the fabric of space and time.

I shake sometimes – It’s an anxiety I uncovered myself when I discovered I had been trying to pile things into a void – An emptiness I refused to admit existed for most my life. What do we do to accept ourselves? I’ve just been piling on logs every time I wake – Every time I rise a little quicker than the fears, just by a lick to see beyond them; I want my fire to burn hot; And well you know the passion I have, you’ve had tastes of the titian red illustrations I’ve thrown all over the walls. It’s entirely truthful, raw, but composed. It is honest. The most honest existence I’ve known; And when I begin to feel it spiral away, I just hold to the corners of the room hoping I can stay. It only makes it worse. They drag me down in the flames where I suffocate in smoke and ash.

I hate smoke, but it can really dance. I am no fan of ash, but it is something I must find comfort in if I want to kiss her embers; If I want to hold my own.

I’ve seen the blessings of a family there for you. A family that made each other feel loved. A family that gave you the concept of gold, and taught you it was nothing near as valuable as your flesh and soul. It is the most dam gorgeous thing, to be kept warm simply from a smile still going from the day they brought you home. I imagine the golden glow I’ll some day feel, when I finally get my own lit up.

When she told me I only snored once, I was proud and happy. My chest was all swelled. It was an incredible discomfort to consider that my presence could keep someone I slept so soundly next to awake at night.

Sometimes I find myself waking up excited, just to see her there next to me. I laugh gently with myself, I’ve got to do that – I’m like a child, awake and eager to see her open her beautiful eyes.

I practice laying silently for hours some mornings; Floating in and out of consciousness – So when she wakes, she might say she slept better than me. She really deserves it. And I try, I try; To be as mindful as I can, do all that I can so she knows she does.

There are nights where I feel her jump. She shakes. And I can only watch. I want to dive in and grab her hand, tell her she’s got it, it’s all okay, but I can only be there; Which in the long run is all anyone can be; And I know it means something when I feel her sleepily reaching for my arm, pulling me in to hold her.

I have slept well for a long time. I had to growing up. It was the only escape, the only reset on the day before. But sleeping well, and sleeping happy are different. And sleeping happy next to you, has shown me a better light to things.

 

 

I couldn’t help it