Found

The place I stand, embrace or later retrace. Giving circumspect to singularity or crying out. What will be the definitive stroke to this masterpiece of adulthood? Consistently followed by the reality my shadow casts...a longing for belonging can be abortive by nature or the slave to settle debts with said abscess. Will the clairvoyance evoke from a warm laugh? Perhaps an honest remark or familiar soul...whatever the source my solace is, it isn't revealed by any finite tribute or acclaim. Just a bare belief, i will be found.

The Artist

Ideas of restoration

and love for theory notation

respond in reverberation.

Clefs align for presentation

result in commune adulation.

Sing to me with your heart so free

and a grip so tight of pulse that beats.

Attuned to needs of industry

with which it suffers atrophy.

Brave souls bridge gaps and usher belief

new school of thought, an uprising.

Creative lines exalt reprieve

pressure left from former defeat.

Uncharted ground is all he seeks...

this time around

May I write this?

....with layers of progression I find the words. Not many, but enough...for now.


To walk with purpose, with healing.
To hold something you've always wanted.
To play the notes that made you whole.
To hear the rain fall and know...

You can be anyone, but I would rather it be you.

rel·e·vance

Pronunciation: \ˈre-lə-vən(t)s\

Function: noun

Date: 1733

1 a : relation to the matter at hand b : practical and especially social applicability : pertinence
2 : the ability (as of an information retrieval system) to retrieve material that satisfies the needs of the user

So I've been sitting on this word for the last couple days and although the definition is concise I don't feel that it addresses the "heart" of it...

Shuttered light strobes through the fence across my face as I walk my city in the early hours. It's so still I can hear the buzzing of the traffic lights as they trade off. Sleep wasn't an option as rolling over started to feel like some sort of routine. Ok, so here I am with my thoughts and the quiet night sky, now what? I have the same sentiments during the day much less the bleak hours of the night, so will my lowered state of awareness bring me to new conclusions?

Marketing on a shop window brings me back from my daze. Where is everyone at when they read these ad slogans everyday? Does one soul feel any closer to self identification from these cheap imitations of what a life "should" look like? I have serious doubts toward that claim. But apparently if the right person is drinking or wearing it you will potentially have a shot at the same lifestyle. The problem isn't with the paid representative of said product but with our hopes to walk away from what we have for a life. As the storyline always plays through that song you feel as if were written just for you or that movie where you see yourself on the screen and the outcome you've always dreamed of. This message that resonates so close to you is simply relaying that you are in fact alive and in search of that place or idea to belong to.

No one shares these streets this late yet I wait for the crosswalk lights permission to proceed. Walking with shortened strides, infected thoughts of "What can I even do with my life at this point?" slow me down. My life is obviously different from yours but what threads do we share? Where do we reach to find our solace? And how long will that sanctuary of escape last this time? What could initiate the relevance of perspective for you and I?

Rebuttals start up from authors antiquity as I turn the corner to my apartment. One-liners and stanzas start surfacing to a moment I accommodate in the least but my heart beats out the logic to stop me in my tracks. I am as motionless as my surrounding at this hour yet my body feels as if it's in flight. Between Milton's "misplaced" Paradise, Eliot's Wasteland or Shelly and his interpretation of love I see the tie between who we allow to label us in our own lives and what we speak out on others is dire. Choice to receive the titles cast upon us is none but our own. Your relevance is limited to how deep you are willing to reach inside yourself. So I choose to walk with a renewed purpose to see myself past the projected expectations and invite you to do the same...but after you've had your morning coffee.

What is it of beauty that soothes a peace in our breath? The simple symmetry of a tree lined country road that feeds a sense of balance or the strength of a red faced canyon who's rocky depths deal protection or the inviting curves of a woman that places the mind at ease. These are but a few elements that spur an ongoing search of the connection between sight and soul. The crux of this is what do we offer in return for this transcendent display...

Concious Sleep

Don't care who's listening
Don't care who hears
You're my wasted time
You're wasted years

I cant say
And I cant scream
But to breakaway
I'm starting to see

And as I walk away
From what remains
You sit in your spite
And your dark campaign

Oh why oh why
Did I even try
Now when I breathe
I exhale life

Days at a time
The weeks are behind
Years follow suit
And the fight grows inside

The night sky falls
And shadow hides
Our dreams march on
As secret whispers lie

My destiny mapped
By sky punched lights
The same ever glow
That inspired Eliot to write

So adieu to you
My adversary consumed
This volition moves on
Apathy you're through.

de·liv·er·ance n.

1. The act of delivering or the condition of being delivered.

2. Rescue from bondage or danger.

3. A publicly expressed opinion or judgment, such as the verdict of a jury.

So there it is. The definition of what I exhale every time I breathe. It's been a while since I've felt this way, well I actually don't think I've ever felt this way. Through authors experience, melody of artists heart and brushstroke to visionaries canvas...I am undone, but free. The unyielding power of choice is something I have discussed recently and am still in awe of. What great potential we have once we believe in where we are going. This shift in thought has brought about a great deliverance in what I understand of this life.

Overwhelming, the options. In this freedom there is so much life to be lived, Chords to be played, Friends to laugh with and Coffee to drink. An evolution in me from protective pessimism to some innate blend of realism and optimism which makes me look at the state I'm in and whats around me to feel a new sense of hope.

Covered in shadow as you darken my door

Jaded by damp souls who feel no more

An inevitable crossing of these lines pass

Pretense wrought wound as lies are cast.

...as espresso and tables mingle, conversation and study share the background of a guitar. I wait, I watch. An obscure delight warms me to see life lived through the fellow patrons eyes. The steamed caffeine soothes my tongue yet sparks my memory, this time of reflection is an anchor in my travels.

Frost

...in my past he saw my future, passing away decades before my birth. You needn't be knowledgeable of the tangent to see the trend. Was there a warning? And to what forum was it asserted? I'd like to think it was revealed to him by the formula of setting. Through the right rural revelation and countless of deaths devastation, being of what to come his articulation. Between epitaph and farmland the answer lies. To three words he proposed..."life goes on."

choice (c̸ho̵is)

noun

1. the act of choosing; selection
2. the right, power, or chance to choose; option

So it's a simple word and a well understood definition. Then why is this "simple" word a mountain to climb over for so many? I'm really broken up inside by all the confusion and loaded pretense that keeps us from performing this seemingly straightforward action.

It's right there, so do it. Make the choice. Why is it not that easy? What have you built up in your mind that makes you almost scared to move in a different direction. If you aren't happy where you are then wouldn't there be a mental process of "hmmmm....I think something needs to change."? I've said it before about the civil war between your heart and mind. It's a vicious fight where reason over healing usually "wins". A false win but none the less the heart can only take defeat for so long and then it wont bother to put up a fight. And I honestly can't tell you how many times and in how many different settings I've heard the words uttered to me..."I just don't feel anymore. Why am I so numb?" Well I can't tell you what your tree of reason looks like for you but I can tell you what the root of this crippling growth is, it's fear.

Those four little letters swing the course of lives and generations like you wouldn't believe. Would fathers run from their sons if not for fear of failure? or a strong woman reject her own potential and take whats given from a shell of a man from a fear of loneliness? or an artist who dreams big but lives small out of a fear of rejection? To call this a crippling growth doesn't do it justice. I don't feel as if I'm being over dramatic on this point either. It's very real and I know you probably already disregarded some of this point due to this root in you. Don't take offense to this because it's true for you and me. We have a great deal of fear that we just overlook and chalk it up as just something you deal with in your day, but there is so much more than that and we settle before we even make it around the next corner! There is a life to be lived that is truly free of this fear. And you know what it is that holds you back, lies like "I better not mess this up because I can't do any better than this!"(if it's a friendship, a job, someone you love or a skill set) If you are holding on to this "familiar comfort" and you're not happy then I plead for you to make a choice....life is waiting.

No matter what you tell yourself you can't always stop your feelings.
I by no means seek to be dramatic but there are times like right now
when I'd rather not feel anything. A deep breath and a distraction.
That's all I'm asking for at the moment. Oh to have the rush of oxygen
in my lungs to loosen the knot....cause it's not about who I was or
what I did, but what I can and will be. The pruning doesn't always
feel "fair" but if I want to go an inch further I have to let go. May
I decrease gracefully.

it's eating at me....
I know the honest truth about me.
However I cannot get my heart to chip in with my thoughts, why such a variance?
Do they truly counter balance each other? Or do I just secretly enjoy holding onto pain?
Sounds sick to you?....well it is but I can't for the life of me let go of certain things. So what
do you hold onto to make it through to the other side?

Do you ever feel like you are the only one trapped?? That everyone around you has an
infinite freedom to basically do or be whatever they want, and you wanna know just how they got a hold of that. I'm forever on the outs with one person and i feel as if I'll never make it in the club....he keeps me on the end of everything and I just wanna find my way past his curve and
see what I'm in for a little sooner than he does. Some have just met him and some of you are subjected to not being allowed in his clique as well.....he's usually referred to as Hindsight. You might feel his intro a bit excessive but if you've been where I have with him it's not the half of it.
What a seemingly esoteric way of life.....I'm not shooting for the center, I would just like to belong.

why do it? why do we make our way through this life? there are so many moments in this self aware existence that we stop to ask....but do you ever hear an answer? or do you just keep going since you haven't stopped breathing yet? artists, scientists, theologists all speculate but who has the clairvoyance to know whats past our sight? could it be the little moments throughout our lives when at an unexpected intersection through the foresight of providence we feel whole or "warm" inside due to a certain event? or person??

some say this is it. what you see is as deep as the rabbit hole goes. others give their lives in an effort to gain what riches are due them in light of their sacrifice. and then another camp has their eyes set on the return of something more. this last camp has set a course towards something not about them or the "tit for tat" lifestyle it has been marketed to be. who has the answers?

in the early hours or deep in the night my heart finds me off guard and has but little time to relay its needs. and sure enough it tells me it needs something more. not wants....needs. enter the conflict of more. more what? happiness? money? fulfilling career? i can rationalize almost anything but this pull is real. and in those moments it pulls hard. what "more" can i give this pull to satisfy its hunger?

forget being poetic, forget being clever. i know there is something more...

release us....

tied up in my sheets, my future lies before me
as the fan flutters the pages loose, back and forth they blow.
its still in here...this book has stirred enough.
my thoughts entertain the choices of departure,
hesitance from a young obedience or plain fear, how do I know?
at times i wish my balance away, oh that i would finally fall...
and ill pick up the pieces of a fate decided.
Realized by a healing I cannot see, hope glistens as conscript listens to this plight.
I feel this fight for me. not much i can explain, as if i overheard from another room
in defense of me, the divine speaks towards the demonic's conceit. who am i to be fought for? are we all that different? together as elements to nurture or neglect, the children's mantle he will protect. my future is decided by the stand taken by generations past...

variance in the grey

A life without a past, a history or reputation. A lack of patience for explaining the particulars of choices made. A barrier between who they were and who they strive to be. Is freedom the white washing of memories made and mistakes replayed? A complete severance from what was and hopes to what is?

Apologies wasted on paper, good intentions left lacking and a cry for time to heal. Its all so aggregated through fear and locked tight with folded arms. Why is anyone surprised when those dearest to us is hurt, for they are by default closest in proximity to our mistakes....

all I know is that saying when is the hardest part.

holding fast

Pillar:def-A fundamental principle or practice; A vertical cylindrical structure standing alone.

Who decides who is going to be a pillar? Is it in our character? Were we forced into the decision by a parent's lack of stability? or is it in our genes?...My summation would be all of the above.
People say "oh, i have to be strong for this or that" but is that really whats on the order for the person they are being "strong" for?

Who do we help more when we make our attempts to be strong or available? Is it them or ourselves that receives the benefit? I try to find the balance in being of service and being strong for myself but am still confused in the why. I am tired and know its a lifestyle in a way but i need a break from "strength". Inclining my ear I wait to hear those words cry out to me....hold fast

"We only hear what we listen for..."

My thoughts bring around so much in a day...its all in release. I don't feel overwhelmed just conscious of the possibilities. Its when I reach out in the adversity I find my wholeness.

...it's always a mixed bag of emotions when you ever look back and read things that were your reality and now it's simply a limp you have grown accustomed to. An old writing that i can vividly remember where i was and what i was thinking in those moments...going back and forth with a friend of mine we took turns explaining each others plight. I started...

Sand, It's everywhere.
My skin blisters from it's gusty sting
The glare from the sun
Shields the answers from my sight
as I walk through the desert

I fight to stay above my fears that congregate
and dare not settle to impersonate
for those who point and say
'that desert will claim your fate.'

Yet my fears collaborate with my foe
and those who point at my desert
have chosen to make it their own
I will be free
Once this tempered hope makes it to my heart

They mock me with their comfortable,
superficial shade
and though the temptation draws on my weakness
of planting in the sand
My tired heart knows this desert is only for a season
So I must continue to stand...