if I could live my life over again would I be the only one or given a new life an empty page or might I prefer to hold the knowledge I have gained, to start in soil as a sprout without the memory of the tree that spawned me and set me free upon this earth as a plotting acorn a cloud of dandelion seed a coconut carried to a different shore on an indifferent sea, or spirit energy transformed back to light and reborn from forth a celestial womb to begin the cycle all-together and all anew (on the universe’s cue)
drowning in thinking perhaps tired of inking these inklings epithets to dreams from threats of a new whirlwind a cascade due an avalanche down doubts weighted by fear the desperate climb out claws from down under pulling downward’sunder but I mustn’t- I mustn’t succumb I must fight for each breath for that reach for life regardless or… or… what?
notes: unlike other animal life we question our existence, but when push comes to shove we do fight to survive, mostly… mostly… are we free from the same death panic ? I doubt it, I am not, mostly in daily life I am but I know I look to the stars and see light that is thousands or billions of years old, does someone see mine ?
there is something to be said to succumbing to the moment before a storm, or perhaps sitting out and sharing the moment with your surround, almost like the dimming of the theater lights in lead up to a performance, there is a gentle wave there, I am able to see each and every single leaf in detail twitching in the rising tide of wind, even leaves bathed in shadows seem illuminated with the backlight of anticipation, there is something in the lore of nature’s core when it comes to summer thunder storms, sure, this is not summer yet, on a technicality, I surely believe the mother is not beholden to the julian shackles of man and our need to define everything within and without, so no, this has the feel of summer thunder, that sudden swift whirl that comes in blazing, as if to ravage the land to the ground with a show of light and furious bellows, no, not yet, for this is the space in the calm, let yourself feel this settling all around you, no late animals stirring about, an occasional straggler of a bird’s call trailing off, the sun well past slumber, dipping below the horizon to wake another ‘sphere, I spy my first lightning bug, a miracle of bio lamination and yet another sure sign a solstice is not the only measure of a season, but thankfully the lightning bug’s cousins, the biting kind are not yet out in legion, so I may enjoy this moment quite unmolested, for a second I think that summer will be here and gone in a blink, but I need to curb such thoughts, and not even mention them, so I won’t, back to the silky bliss that is this, calm before the storm, sometimes a cliché is a proper cloak as this may be the case, this space, so wide and calm, drifting circles in pond fading out in to smaller crests until gone, each breath I draw feels like this, I can see my exhale rippling outward and as it fades and I breath in to fall into a cycle, so here I sit, on the same common porch I’ve known, a moment I have known, but since long have not felt, the newness mating with old familiar, not happiness, but contentment, a contentment of life where I wait for the first drop to drop and then I will retreat inside, to hear that song, of a million tone tons playing upon the walls – and windows – and wind.
notes… for the non readers this is me just sitting on the porch riffing, all off the top of my head, a stream of dave-ish-ness… so it is… your thoughts, impressions, invectives are all welcome, so comment away.
that, so hear! riding on the wind, the cry of the wolf rises up on the moonlit night piercing all forward and all behind crests effortlessly over my ramparts and walls directly into my soul directly to my heart;
for the grey that inhabits my crown for the once saplings now laid down with leaf for seasons past and lives have cross’t, that pierce of hers- the cost does haunt;
still, might I lie mostly wake thoughts can hardly break the lure of that call of the earthen core herself- nor noble sword for which I held nor conquered foe for which I thought I felled upon my knees can not relent spine down my soul can not repent;
for she shall always be my queen;- in times of youth when all was the golden eternity was upon and nothing spent the perfection of lying together in our bed at night, until the soft light morn the supple fit of our perfect form, how insidious human works did invade that space worldly words n’ deeds the insurrection led by my disgrace;
a guise, so easy to see with hind so easily remembered, twice fold in kind a fool’s errand to decide by one the best for two rather than raze the building to see again the gleaming foundation; (abandoned dream) a fate of two disparate streams that became a river spilled into an endless ocean of the unity of love dried up in a short sighted season of my famine the destruction of a singular decision is more than a scar heavier than an anchor of the base most stone a crushed trachea trained under heavy breath, like a collapsed tunnel under a grand mountain’s ground;
sometimes there is the air of escape, from miles, from towns, in the arms of others, but when, that call hears out, and reaches these ears I can not bear to wonder what else, and despair.
notes… I shall never forget, I want to, I want to find that next love, but it has not materialized so far… I feel I am wired different, time and years feel like nothing to me, although not everyone is wired the same way, today could be yesterday or the day I left her, it all feels the same, regardless of time and space…
sometimes we all act the fool, in jest I must accept not reject this abject part of my humanity… for at best I am my worst and my best is met beyond my expectations my pet, but I bet I do not know anything yet, with four decades under belt I have felt many things and still stumble like a child learning first steps, because there are always more first steps, there is always first steps unless you live life standing still, but then you would be a dummy, both figuratively and literally… or maybe just a man named quinn…
prayer from a distance does not carry on the air nor land or on the back of a feather the ocean may rise to engulf the poles but not even a voice of thunder can span the globe in one full jump
but the voice of many may be the boat of hope to sail so, I pray, still.
there is hope, and hopelessness… and yes, none of this may matter in this matter, but you have a choice, I choose to live in the sun, as best I can (and I fail more than not, but my choice is not the reason for my failure, my humanity is, such as it is).
your thoughts and comments are always appreciated, my friends.
do you remember? the other day? yesterday? (it seems) a decade ago? (in reality) a lifetime ago- how it all seems, my love, still- still–, always-, my love, I love you, even more, now.
notes… I had a very lucid dream about her today, we went on vacation for a week or so, and we were driving back, we were in the back seat, her legs over my lap, I was rubbing her feet, looking into her eyes, and we were both so utterly satisfied, and she said “you know this was one of the best weeks of my life” and I nodded, and she said “and you know I am still not the right one for you even with this perfect time”… it was both confirmation and devastation… I can not explain how real it felt, it felt like a real test tube distillation of our whole event… I would give it all for her, but never did when it counted back then, a dumb scared kid, I can’t forgive myself, I haunt myself, time was supposed to heal, time was supposed to release me from these bonds but goddamn it it has not… I hate myself but can not hate my nature, I would give it all for her now, even now. Does that make me dumb, loyal, a fool, or who knows.. I guess death will release me from the burden, not that I am anxious to come to that regard at all… god, I miss her, even all these years later…
the proposal of the sun- (now) in our time of this sacred covenant the light does strike out from the direction of dawn down, out upon my palm (moments go, the light) slides up my forearm yes, and then I notice- the warming; welling up, as from within an upward spring, flowing toward the surface an awakened primal memory the pure instinct of response a trigger, intrinsic in all forms the jubilation- a germination- of the elemental elixir infused infused with the optimism inherent in life from the giver of- the sun from whence all life, derives (thrives).
notes… just the power of the sun hitting my arm, on a grey day when the breaks became a jail break of light later on, the feel, the feel is so visceral, something within us all is awakened by such days or moments, to remember, to recall… and carry on, with joy…