Who Knows

It's not so much a question as a statement. If you don't have the answers though, for yourself, then I guess the shadows can't see inside either. I hold the hope of a heart, in a hand, on a rope. I for you can only breathe so long. Underwater abattoir. You leave me. Suffocate at sections. I never promised you an olive garden. They say. Go in search of and thou shalt suffer when not uncovering your sought riches. Allow space and time to co-create their beautiful babies of truth. All will be revealed. Rewarding patience. I can only open so much, like a bare book, the bones sticking out from the lesser skinned parts. I am yours. I am nobody's. I am a celebration of everything we don't know.

elvira

She was some kind of space pixie. She hadn't come from the common womb either. Just looking in her eyes, some truth just lying there, it was obvious she had the key.

I didn't want her to go, but I was glad for those few hours. So much time wasted, this so well used. We were gonna know each other a good while. Always time, my dear,

Sometimes it comes on really easy. The topics, the life analysis, the ease of comfort. She was effortless to be with. Oh, space pixies, you hide so well. Where are the others, lost in corners, never to be discovered? Sleep tight, little pixies, sleep tight for now.

Family

My darling family,

Where are you for the days? The passing days in which I hold you close at mind if not in arms. We could be sad at these distances or we could be grateful we ever had enough to miss each other in the first place. We could look forward to our next collection of minutes in each other's company, and only see the light. How I miss my mother and father, but what I have become is a testament to love and their guidance, whether it felt strange at times, inside my shell, understanding them and the world that surrounded me. The ballooning upon emerging from a protective shell, the blossoming of life, as it takes over, as we hold the reigns, control it, each in our own way. Me in mine. Oh it all looks spectacular from here. I can see the waves, singing a gentle lullaby.

So, I wonder how your days are. How are your days? I can type words out to you, feelings of warmth. I can see you whenever I want. Nothing is missing really, only those pretty arguments we fall into in person.

Yeah, I see people around me who are close by to their families, some obscenely so, some where they come and go into each other's daily lives and it seems nice and some who just coincide rarely, despite closeness in location. There is all kinds of situations. Some people probably don't miss their families so much and others will be locked into moments of sadness that they don't share a little more of the days with those closest to them. I think freedom and pursuing the calling of a heart is the greatest thing we can do, as the heart is our finest weapon, but that sometimes leads us away from the spot where our roots were twisted into the ground. I never considered tearing myself from the spot painful, I just don't know where I will, if ever, lay down those roots again. For now they excel at running over new turf and taking the upper parts of the body to lands where the wind can be felt on a neck, in the hair. I wonder why I don't miss my 'home' and am hunting for another, but I know it's right. My family is there, even in silence, it is there. You, fragments of me. You, with eyes and a pulse and a will of your own.

So, enjoy the days, as we are, together and apart. For our eyes will see each other soon, in more than dreams. Until that moment I am yours. As ever I was and will be.

Bless your socks and the contents, bless you on your way.

Big Kids

Some of us are a universe in a human body. The mind, what an instrument. Alas, some have lesser depths, some know not how to wield their weapons, the ones placed inside their paws. Evolution, can it not take place whilst still retaining youthful innocence and hope in everything? You know, the kind that tends to fade as we accelerate to the grave. Well, why though, it doesn't seem to be absolute in necessity. Love and lust and liars and a melting pot consuming our thoughts. I take what I want from it and abandon the remainder. Big kids and gramophones, talking and slipping into dreams, sipping on the past, looking ever forwards. The recipe for now, words and choruses bending on the air, fitting just right into an ear.

Never say goodbye to everything we were, it made us who we are. Roots and then little shoots, just about everywhere.

It

I wish I didn't care for it, but I do. I wish it didn't pop into my thoughts all the time, but it does. I know if it weren't for you, it wouldn't matter and that all it does is make it work. I see it morphs and it transfers and it claws at my eyelids. It means something to us, it drifts on the river, and it gives meaning to all that wades into view...

Tips For Living No. 1 - Try Not To Get Accustomed To The Sound Of Approximate Silence, Part 2

...So, where were we? Don't believe I don't know my reader is there, whether it be in a singular or more plural figure. Just because of the silence of you, it doesn't mean I neglect to ponder your presence, and I can still feel your breath on my writer's neck. Oh, yes, we were discussing the silence of our times, our modern charming world. Well, precisely the lack of it, and the acute surprise whence it befalls us, it sweeps us up in its fleeting arms.

Do you just see words, can you cooperate with the loneliness of the words on the page and fall into some great meaning, as everything continues around you outside your earthly bubble? Gravity, fixes us here, takes all our energy at times, sinking through my feet. Perhaps I swing from my theme of contemplation, alas, I shall endeavour to return and focus (as my dad swears I never can...)

Silence. I love you and hate you all at once. Like the best women, like my head, like everything of any value, it has a heavy dark side, a joy attached that makes us feel spectacular. The dogs barking, like some mad chorus, the electrical creatures that almost take over our existences, among them the buzzing fridges and cancerous television sets. The sounds of vehicles, and people, and thoughts that rarely leave peace in the mind, and the birds, the wind, the clock on every wall and the sound of a tense heart in a chest. Almost everywhere you look, go, dare to step there is noise, softening the blow of potential loneliness. Now, we are never going to have to cope with getting used to something that we hardly have the chance to cross paths with, are we? But Silence, I would certainly not mind if you sought me out a little more frequently,. or perhaps, and this is just an idea, maybe I should abandon my surroundings and come looking for you once in a while.

Tips for Living No. 1 - Try Not To Get Accustomed To The Sound Of Approximate Silence

Modern life inflicts many things on us but silence would seldom seem to be one of them. When the near if not perfect presence of silence actually does drop it barely seems possible and we almost miss the moment waiting for its bubble to be burst by some mundane audio effect from our soulless existence. The machines take over, the stars are less visible, the neighbourhood at times seems too concise and the heart cannot beat as it would like. The lungs cannot take the air they need. Try to not become accustomed to silence, not that I feel you ever could, for this is our tale. There are pockets of space where all can be appreciated, where silence can echo long into the night, where dreams seem real. Everything exists within the strength of a mind, at the very least, so we can create and be artistic with our days, our thoughts.

To.be continued...

The Upshot

Strike me down. Make a choice. Wrap the stars in cotton wool. When it comes down to it we all must pass through roller-coaster days, we all must accept the ebb and flow of life's tapestry as it tells its tale. Like a river, with opposition, like everything we are. Conviction consume me, push me to the post. Rape our uncertainty, fit me in some box of decision. The upshot as ever, all that needs releasing, we are searching for sense and solution. I long for the body of water, the lake of her soul, her ocean, her endless pool of sacrifice, one for another. Love. Only for this. She walks through every door, the last word echoes, to the drop of it all, the earth at the wall, shattering like you never knew a thing.