Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Darling













music

Perceptive and alert, I focus fully on you,
calming my breathing and studying close.
My eyes reading, simmering, glowing blue,
throwing off the limitations I once chose.

But you shrink back, feeling suddenly dirty,
knowing my vision reaches deep into the marrow.
Your motivations, your journey, unveiled clearly,
as you stand naked, neither villain nor hero.

I listen close to the whispering of my heart.
review the outcomes of my grand intention.
Think deeply over how I felt at the start....
are the mighty principles of love still my mission?

I gaze into your sunset, darling, long into the red,
feeling those rays upon my pale face.
I tell the stars where my path has led,
what I should have learned living in this place.

And its
Only when I reach out to comfort you can I see,
all the truths my heart used to keep.
Only when I love you...will I let my god love me,
only you, darling, can pull me from the deep.

When I focus fully on your beautifully imperfect mind,
can I forgive the faults in myself that I cant abide.
So don't be afraid or ashamed of what I might find...
just know...dearest one,
that you are the light where my heart goes to hide.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

Wanderer

















music

Having visited the shores of long sought accomplishments,
I break upon the well earned luxuries of youth.
From meager to more, the high is quick and intense,
filled with the moment's privileges and simple truth.

And I know I should stay, find a stillness in my soul,
back turned to the loneliness of deep open seas...
Back story well written, feet traveled, eyes made full,
and the calm stability of land locked love's ease.

But my hands ache with the swift removal of illusion,
the purpose of my hard journey turning to ash.
My spirit is denied its slow, fabled old age resolution;
and my manic waves build and surge and crash.

I cannot abide the responsibility of self control,
needing only the given choices of uncertain survival.
My skin aches for the claw marks of a demons pull,
my hands ready for the fight, the clarity of one goal.

Do not burden me with the delicacy of happiness,
do not put your heart in my salt callous fingers.
Safer to leave you nostalgic, yearning my mess,
cologne on your pillow, phantom kisses that linger...

Into the uncertain addictions of unsafe waters I go,
careful to leave only beautiful memories behind.
Leaving you with what I had to give, what I know,
and fading into the blue of a broken man's mind.


Friday, April 15, 2016

Pangur ban












Music


So little time to understand how it feels
to let go of a life so misunderstood.
Gone... drawn with a knifes sharp command,
splintering the rippled hands of should, would..
and could not.

Oh love of mine; desire of my better self,
be wise and powerful and just...
Silence the burning rope; the burnt out hope,
and bare the weight that heavy love must.

Catch us in your arms and unlock the heart...
so afraid and caged, fractured and aged in the dark.
Lift our eyes to the sun...the deeper blues...
help us to choose better...to choose you.

Weep merciful rain upon the crystalline spheres,
bathing the skyline in your cobalt streaks.
Burn blue fire,  tears of supernova choir,
lighting up our lime lit, desperately dark desire.

See passed our dented bread pan cast;
our genetic insincerity, impersonally personal.
Sail with a rising star light mast, to where I cannot...
and teach them a higher way to be.
Do this love...but don't do it for me.

Better than I could, than I did...
Make them sing, and sigh and shine.
Show them where my answers hid...
show them love's iridescent gray line.

Plant them in the ashes of my soil,
And grow a star to light up the dark...
Without my gold, or my fire, or my oil,
Ignite their souls; win back their hearts.

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Every man is a warrior















My father knows of this old fight;
this game we all must play.
His eyes have seen the pieces move,
dominoes falling into light.
Thrust so suddenly from the gray,
miscarriages in her womb.
He has cried for my fearful way,
and become humble before god.

My mother, my sister, my girl...
I was scared of my father's tears.
His arms held back waves for so long,
nurturing you like fine pearls.
Held safe inside all those years;
we learned the line of right and wrong.
But now, darling ones, hes not here,
and I cry for the man I know Im not.

With shaking hands I recognize pawns;
those for whom there was never  hope.
Jaded, aged, hyper vigilant,
I watch the world's fallen icons.
And Im sad... and tired...trying to cope,
my brothers on the front already spent.
Knowing within, there's no use with soap,
my hands are stained red.

I swear by the sword on my shoulder
to protect those under my care.
For the tears of a gentle man,
Ill become a dawn guard soldier.
With rebellious eyes and low prayer,
teach me and make me understand.
Because I have much to keep safe...
and no more chances to spare.


music






Monday, February 29, 2016

Muse





















So I look on, still enslaved,
lips tingling with phantom thoughts,
mouth watering and
prophesying a darkened room,
with two hearts...pounding.

Pounding.

Smile at the surrender, the knowing,
imagining the exposed neck,
the finger tip decent,
rounding hips,
tracing the inner thigh,
hands gliding smooth,
summoning goosebumps,
till eyes lock... dilating.

Breathe deep.

Beginning the rhythms,
the many visited symphony,
charming again the muse,
wrestling away her brilliance.
I reach for entangled brush,
bartering a given release,
but take the wash cloth forcefully.

Mine.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Rambling




















Music

I often wonder at the nature of an immortal inhabiting the existence of flesh.  What does it mean to grasp the founding of the universe? What is it to work out the governing dynamics and pen the physical laws binding this plane? Under the tutelage of a deity, what is that even like? Though...perhaps...from a certain point of view we are all being raised as children by God. The Bible so humbly deems him "father." Interesting to think, mortal or otherwise, we all share that familial bond.

In the stream of time the minor arena we find ourselves in now is temporary and inconsequential. At this very moment, however old Jesus might be, one day there will be those of us that have lived as long as he has now. Tell me...should I be granted citizenship in that kingdom come...will I understand the universe as Christ did when he was here? Will I look up at the heavens and feel the same bond he did with the Father? For all my criticisms and cynical refusals to follow anyone...I am impressed by the simple intuitive way he spoke.

Any man that can stand before governments in respectful opposition, divide principle from shallow tradition, heal the sick, feed the hungry and inspire a love based religion ...commands my allegiance. I will forever be fascinated by the quiet strength of any man who can endure beatings on principle and then carry on.


Bonus thought: if Jesus was Michael the ARCHangel in heaven before he took a new name and came to earth in a new role as Christ, who took his place as the tippy top angel? When Christ was resurrected the Bible calls him a "new creation;" immortal and incorruptible. Demons prove that angels are not immortal. They can be killed, thus proving there is some distinction between angel and immortal. So who's the new archangel? Ole Gabe is the only other angel named...but who knows?

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Davy




















There are bodies floating,
hanging, held aloft,
cradled in the restless,
hysterical, heartbroken sea.
there are stories, death kissed,
hearts abruptly stopped,
and there are father's
holding the tools to their misery.

Times when they stray too close;
loose their warrior's wounds,
finding sand, stone, undertow,
taking the past from young souls.
Caught by melody, by gravity;
drawn to the untold tombs,
wondering over their cold hands,
their bones, scattering shoals.

Deepening the lines of my face,
stilling nerves, pushing my drive,
calling me to their fates,
begging for love, for mercy.
I cannot look away, forsake them,
leave the vigil, keeping me alive.
For their memories cry out,
fill the air with anguish, tragedy,

Into the storm I must endeavor,
braving maelstrom, hidden reef,
over the water, silencing weather
giving the crushed something to
believe.

~Jones
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIbc1RTO7Kg

Sunday, January 31, 2016

Rain
















She stopped there at the threshold,
eyes lifted...
deciding.
And I,
with an umbrella hidden behind my back...
her savior,
thrilled to be so useful...

Deep breath now,
you know the words,
you know her.
Right.
Walking toward the door,
toward her,
A tap on her shoulder...
"Care to share...?"
Nailed it.

A pause.
Her eyes roaming between mine,
the umbrella,
and the sky.
Deciding...
...
A smile on her eyes,
playful,
immediate, precipitous.

Taking the umbrella
and my hand,
we ran into the rain.
without opening it...
my salvation ,
not hers.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Into Sunlight




















https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXEbk0Sn6XI

I like to think she never felt the pain,
never had a tortured moments penance.
But that...
the sunlight coming down in chrysanthemum rain,
lifted her chest in morning melodies...
and consequence.

I like to think...
her last thoughts were of her loving cares,
and the promise of her unfettered future.
For she is free now...
sunlight sojourner with no use for wares,
her spirit is safe and her pathway is pure.

Perhaps he lost sight of her in that moment...
the lightning of her departure so bright;
her last wild dance.
When her time here was at last gently spent,
nobody saw her go in that dawning starlight,
her jump to "white shores and silver glass."

I will miss the person you so richly created,
miss the confidence with which you loved me.
And I only wish...
at that moment when we were separated...
that vision could have been granted me to see,
to have walked with you that morning...
to have hugged you and held your hand...
and said goodbye.

Monday, January 18, 2016

Overwhelmed




















I shrink back from unsafe eye contact,
Dim the lights, dragon puff, back away.
Precedents were broken, guards cracked,
so I must regroup, decide to stay...

They think Im long gone...unconcerned,
seeing only the illusion of my white gates.
But I am no dragon, immune, unburned,
Nor a knight unaffected by these weights.

Doors and I have a standing agreement,
holding back tides for the keys that bind.
Not for trick, treat, insult or compliment,
but tenderness; warmth, gentle and kind.

Save me from my inescapably honest logic;
crushing nihilism's hopeless infinite defeat.
Suggest hope for the hurt, bruised, lovesick,
reach passed my walls to my child's heartbeat.





Wednesday, January 13, 2016

in that place


I address those times with a smile;
a quiet inward nod to our simple gallantry.
Long before you felt analyzed, on trial,
you were in my heart and away from my body.

We danced in between obligation and desire,
easing the distances with stolen moments.
For we stood equal, someone to admire,
future unclear, thick with addicting suspense. 























You taught me so much in so few years,
exploding upon me triumph and tragedy.
Narrating epics in my dream woven tears,
Prides and Prejudices, youth and mortality.

My soul was singed, concentrated, aged,
fueling my passionate heart into action.
I ran, darling, broken winged, wild, uncaged,
dressing my world in midnight raven fashion.




















Now its been some time, hasn't it darling?
And you're still so beautiful to me...truly.
Do they know those flowers' crimson gold meaning?
I do...the one little piece that belongs to me.

I don't expect you to smile any more...
I know what's mine and what is not...
Just meet my heart in that place... before,
we stood naked, separated, and forgot.

Im there...waiting.












Monday, December 14, 2015

Tick Tock















I see them all...

Tick,

those that push:
nearest the humble earth,
mighty in purpose and birth,
kept so far from the "victory,"
they helped achieve.

Tick

 those that triumph;
stepping on human shoulders,
willing or otherwise,
screams, cries, soldiers, lies
the sky is their domain.

Tick

those along for the ride...
slow, confident, moral majority,
moving, surging, desperate hope,
that one more year, harvest, pope,
can reshape destiny, light up the dark.

Tick

those that found no comfort in groups;
defecting from the thrown down gods,
unable to join the rising tide,
spirit stone cold, they cannot abide,
should have died with the others.

Tock

for all of them must choose,
while the pendulum swings.




Monday, November 16, 2015

No Allegiance Here





















By frequency and friction, I analyze coldly,
the merit to troublesome connections.
In each interaction- attempts to mold me-
I see the significance of their affections.

Parts to play, speeches to say, words to pray...
Im not interested in these little insincerities.
Like a leaf on the wind, free to visit, not to stay;
share the experience, but keep the keys.

Your concepts of title and registration are foreign,
belonging to the elusive normal majority.
Distanced, cleanly cut, practiced generic grin,
I am but a cog in the wheels of this gray city.

Our world is broken and cant hold up its light,
heart failure humanity, alligator tears, and Judas kisses...
So dont mind if I go quietly into the night,
regrouping, perhaps...
in tomorrow's false promises.







Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Pray





















Perhaps it was your face when you prayed...
I could feel the peace you found...
But I couldn't hold it any more than I could hold you.

And I wouldnt take it, love, never...
Not your faith, your peace, your joy,
I just want you...

Tell me, darling, that one day,
my love will be grand enough
to hold you in its arms.

Comfort me to know,
that I will calm your mind,
lift your spirit...
that you will want
 just me.


Tuesday, October 6, 2015

calm
















The storms combust over my head
In retribution and watery wrath.
They put me to sleep in my bed
And give my gardens a little bath.

How the winds do push and pull
Easing me along the world's current.
Its melody is twisted, old, beautiful,
controlled by strings, bought and spent.

There is a oneness with the sky
That every dreamer has to find.
And though I have no hope to fly,
Here my spirit is far less confined.

The heavens call with each drop,
Like little prayers whispered low.
There are forces at work I cannot stop,
And finally Ive learned to let them go.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

At a glance















And what do I want?
What will satisfy my eyes,
my heart beat, my mind?

Fractions of seconds tracing lines,
checking for symmetry,
balancing adrenaline to blush,
goosebumps and hush.

Discovering expressions,
smiles and tinges of light,
reflections on your eyes,
greens and blues.

Wounded warrior poet?
manic pixie dream,
elegant 1960's trophy,
what hides in the girl,
in front of me?

And what does she want?
Can I satisfy her eyes,
her heart beat, her mind?

Sunday, September 20, 2015

home













snowflake eyelashes become you, darling,
they decorate you with equally pure beauty.
For you are elegant, and you are clean,
enchanting girl, baby princess, winter queen.

And raindrops fall because you ask them to,
because the sound...your sound, begs to be heard.
It takes a thousand drops to get know you,
but I've never known you to waste a word.

And there is no great ceremony to my thrill,
no great rush of over powering emotion.
Merely the calming recognition, gentle still,
that every drop is forming our shared ocean.

Forever I have run, chased the extremes...desperately.
and for so long I have belonged no where.
But in the shadow of your love, your body,
my plans are fading, contenting me...
to stay right here.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Nine to Five















I think of the lives I would've built,
the stories that would occupy my memory.
I ponder freedom from my four by four guilt,
my possibilities shrunken to a screen...
never far from me.

I wonder at my capabilities, limits never tested,
triumphs and falls never felt, never tucked away.
My current is short, ever diminished, ill invested,
and I think of the lives in front of me, and
I have no part to play.

As a child, my accomplishment were trivial,
yet I so fondly recall them, calmed by them, proud.
When life was for fun, for love, for art, for all...
I ran, I cried with tears, I loved, I trusted...
I lived out loud.

Now here I sit...wasting time with inefficiencies,
so inappropriately using desk space to play.
What beowulf storm, what tempest treacherous seas,
took me from my childhood to this dream fallen,
adulterated day?

When did this become all of me?

Thursday, September 10, 2015

flight risk














I am paused by your quiet, set face,
your presence never lingering for long.
My eyes search out yours, try to keep pace,
confused by your steps, lost in your song.

I am...
barred from a path along your mountain tops,
withheld from rituals, telling, written, little lines.
I am kept generic, impersonal, actors and props,
never close enough to translate your secret signs.

you smile so sweetly, briefly showing a bit more,
momentary lapses in straw brick, mortared stones.
Progressions of conversation, revealing the core;
shadows haunting, dreams blinding, aching bones.

You are...
a terrified, troublesome, frustrating flight risk,
always ready to leave me, should I ever doubt.
And I should know better than to try and fix this,
all I can do is calmly...confidently, assure you...
that you have all my love.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

principles


































Principles written in storm and stone,
decorate the images we thought we'd be.
Ideas that would knight us "full grown,"
scholars and adventurers, quiet royalty.

For my part,
Cumulus concepts mirrored my tempest;
took flight, ran, shut down, lights blown out.
Storms raging, eyes leaking, mind hard pressed,
thunderous frustrations, hurts, cuts, deep doubt.

And somewhere out there in the icy open air,
I found sanctuary from my youth, from you.
Happiness equations and getting whats fair,
dropped like a mask, maze, unwanted bruise.

I saw it go, the person I was trying to play,
watched it plummet, asteroid, to the ground.
My dream turned hard and gun metal gray,
finally at rest, at home with the peace it found.

For you,
I have only to peer upon your preservation of me,
my memory paved and presented like a work of art.
The person I was, decaying, but held fondly,
pressed against you, kissing you, heart to heart.

Wrapped in druidic ceremony, beyond criticism,
you see only gray masks, everything now unclear.
Back to nature, to its freedom, earthly wisdom,
fighting fiercely your eyes, heavy with dull fear.

And there is something beautiful, sacred... noble,
in finding rest amidst a world of growing conflict.
Your fragile, careful, compassion remains hopeful,
filling me with tender awe, love... words cant depict.

Principles darling, written long before you and I,
lay you down among the trees and I, mountains.
As a man, I watch, collect you up in my eyes...
you are life, love and fulfillment of all my plans.

Monday, July 20, 2015

holding you
















Windows, stained or otherwise,
never quite cut it for me.
For when the brilliant constellations;
star fires of far away, alight...
the synaptic, nebulous neurons,
burning bright...come into focus,
and my telescopic ponderous peering
glimpses the secrets of heaven.

Its funny to think that the skies above,
beyond comprehension, expedition...
pale in comparison to the music;
the unobserved orchestration...
the unrivaled resplendence...
of the many splendored universe,
aglow in my arms.

By pattern recognition: intelligence,
and the 5th force: illuminating love;
your soul soft light beams upon me.
In the rays of your symmetry, gentility,
I am made safe...
sounded down, wound around,
the careful configurations of color,
in your eyes.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Stare Down





















Good intentions betray me,
play me, the naive little fool.
Making me small, nothing to see;
an overlooked, incapable, gene pool.

And yet, you must meet my gaze,
for I will walk my line of sight,
from my beating heart, mirror maze,
to your chest, lungs, ready for a fight.

Im just a problem to you, a nuisance,
inquiry demanding a response, a reply.
Hair raised, undaunted by an electric fence,
I spy greener grass, beauty beheld in my eye.

Breathe, rise and fall, cool and calm,
superman soaking sun, pushing for a smile.
I hold out my world, ease it into your palm,
and plead the 5th before my judge, jury, trial.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Walls





















You told me,
Id never have to share your mind...
Eyes are fickle,
lust is cheap.
But your mind...
the far away places it goes,
when it goes,
so far away,
leaves me alone.

Darling,
look at me.
Hold my eyes the way you did,
when I had the answers,
when I was exciting,
when the fear of your heart,
never came so far,
as to be between us.

Im still right here,
desperately afraid...
And dont find shame,
in causing the tears.
Listen to my voice,
feel my hands holding you...

And
Come back to me...


come back.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Just words





































The dual nature of what I want,
mixes between the words I say,
and the way my body
responds to you...

I am unable to not see you, darling,
my heart quickening if I linger too long,
on the tip of a frozen fortress...
I will never know deeper.

This sudden desperation to be everything...
you could ever want, betrays my vanity.
maturity straining over what I know I should want...
and this adrenaline addiction.

Familiar movies play out in my mind,
scenes picked for potency, play out,
you, my perfect actress, and I,
anything but this desperate to hold you.

And why am I trying not to cry?
Why must your beauty remind me,
that the triumph of my survival here...
fails to impress you?

But I know better than to show any of this,
treacherous tightrope I walk,
never getting too close, never wanting too strongly,
anything that could be taken from me.

Between the words I say, my heart speaks,
the silence growing, my mystery well worn,
my apathy...anything but real...
and my mask begging to be taken.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Comfortable Alone

















In between the things we say,
just passed the stage faced speeches,
I am crushed by the meaningless...
empty dialogue.

Lost at sea, sea urchin of dying ideals,
I drift between white knightings,
and Epicurus' breaking, broken ship,
a hunger to hold on to something.

Isolated by damages picked up over time,
little picked poisons, survival addictions.
I know why you stand alone...
and why I do too.

Memory searches for nobler times,
so unashamedly good, so ready to trust,
and the distance between past and present...
sums up my fall.

Yet, the world is cold, machined, sterile,
economic systems built upon the premise
that selfishness might capitalize on human nature,
and trick us into helping each other.

Ive seen these dangers,
I can trace the scars they left,
the little ridges of skin outlining my fears...
and I think...what value remains?

With time I see the effect of the past,
with equal parts hope and desperation...the future,
till all that remains is the present...
ever slipping away.

And from my settled upon spot,
the one ive fought for so hard to "attain,"
I smile at the beauties of the world...
the little thrills.

Its not so much that I want to move,
more to know that I could if I wanted to...
my addiction to options made plain,
along with my fear to fail.

The longing and the struggle remains...
needing only the promise of possible attainment,
enough to linger on...hoping for far shores,
for some answer, for validation, for God.



~~~

As children we are so free of emotional baggage, of misconceptions and buttons. Damage done has raised so many walls, so many questions of whether the pain is worth the privilege. Intimacy comes with such risk and hurt. Yet I feel within myself that the openness, the haphazard nobility of my youth cannot be dismissed as naivete. There is some virtue in letting people hurt you. Of opening your heart to them and knowing it will end in blood. Perhaps the true skill is not in killing the desire for these attachments and more in killing the hurt.

Monday, May 25, 2015

Wanderer





















Tell me darling,
where you've been.
Help me to understand,
why you cant stay...
where you're going
when you go away.

You know,
I see you come and go.
You know my fear, my care,
when you seem so tired,
leaving more out there,
than you bring back here.

I see your confusion,
your aching desperation.
And I want only to hold you,
to calm your restless feet,
your steady beaten retreat.

But I know,
my love is simple and attained.
I cannot grant you the same worth,
the same adrenaline you so need
to kill your doubts away.

For you are wonderful,
and you are bright.
Your eyes fall upon the world,
and your mind tears it apart.
Your heart uncurls itself,
as you present yourself afraid.

And I know,
I cant be the one to save you from this.
Teary eyed you are screaming,
broken without their love.
Because if they love you,
you can love you,
and maybe then me.

I know...
You want to love me.
I know...

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Monster




















By what dark imagining, painful question,
did you divine the future of my palm?
Where did you ponder your moment of creation?
By what bled street, by what unnatural calm?

For in this sickening mortal silence,
has gone the perfection of many an angel.
Hurt, transformed, pushed into slow violence,
chained to mortality, to gravity, to this hell.

What darkness hid in the corners of your mind,
what desires lit your path to the other side?
I  know them,
what you've lost, and what you'll find...
when you walk the roads
to where your answers hide.

And by virtue of my painful sophistication,
you will elevate these pains to prestige.
I, with such evil knowledge, dread education,
will turn the cogs of your mind in a shadow siege.

I will speak in fell languages, caustic to hear,
in speech the innocent cant understand.
With words the untouched wont suffer to bare,
with sounds that bargain less, and demand,
more.

And,
I ask no pity for what I am, have become,
need no hand, nor eye to know my worth.
I am the monster in the night,
unwanted memory, consequential sum, after birth.
I am the dread curiosity, you dare not fight,
the evil questions we had to know.



I am,
because of you.




Monday, May 11, 2015

Almost Faith





















Dust bunnies of the universe,
swept under toe by powerful time.
We gather and breed like a curse,
completely caught in their battle,
of Yours and mine.

Regarded as something of a nuisance,
evidence that life is less elegant than intended.
We hide where the war of truth and consequence,
is neither truly wanted...
nor defended.

Composed from the rust of greater beings,
we feel their heritage echoing in our bones.
Desperate for control we hate their strings,
good or evil, we throw down fire,
first to cast stones.

How I hate to want to be wanted.
How I tear away from needing anyone.
From my knees, I am manipulated, hunted,
easy prey for the cold hearted,
conscience numb.

So I call to the sky from this side of cautious,
never really expecting to be heard.
Hope is expensive and it always seems to cost us,
 But without hope...the night would swallow up
this troubled blackbird.

So Ill wrap my mind in a superficial faith,
never fully believing...

Its understood, to devalue, depress, is safe,
And that to believe in something so good,
that may never be...
is crazy.


---
My faith

1. There is a God.

Because if there isnt...theres no real hope for us. Somehow I take no solace from the fact that science may one day save humanity. Death cannot be normal. Murder cannot be ok. Suffering cannot be... Something within my spirit revolts against it. If these things truly are normal and God isnt real... I dont want to be here. So out of practicality...Im gonna operate on the premise I find worth while living under.

2. God is Loving, Wise, Powerful, and Just

Because if he isnt...I still dont want to live anywhere in this universe. All four of those things must be present for life to be worth it. At least for me.

3. The Bible is the Inspired instruction from God

Its a book. Written by imperfect men. However, that alone is kinda a saving grace. Its so old. Its the love child of the historians, singers, number sticklers, idealists, prophets, and thinkers. It represents the chronicled thought of some of our oldest ancestors. It has human spirit in it. That and its been the book of God for like ever. Im young, granted, but its words do seem to live by the principle of adding no bad with them. Going against its advice does have good to it. There are such highs that "sin" purchase. But at the cost of some price. The Bible's advice seems to pay off ...ok...and with the distinction of not causing consequences. Not nearly as exciting...but no "pain with it."

Plus it only seems fair that there would be some kind of communication to mankind. Plus Jesus...Theres so much frustrating evidence that he existed. Sighs.

4. Prophecy and Hope

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. We know the words. I find great hope in praying for that kingdom to finally take power here. Most of the Bible seems written for those that lived at that time. Revelation seems more like our book. One by one, scriptures are being to look obviously fulfilled. If Jesus really was enthroned as king of the kingdom of God...I cant wait for him to come and do to the earth what he did while he lived as a man. Cast out the false teachers. Heal the sick. Teach.

Because if these things dont come about...dont happen. What was the point.

5. Im a Jehovah's Witness

They seem to teach the Bible straight up. No funny business. Scripture by scripture, they take it as it is. Im not one to be pushy about religion. Its kinda a personal thing to me, but this is also a personal blog so whatevah. All 6 of you will just have to suffer through my religious spouting right now. www.jw.org if your interested. I find it compelling. But...to each his own.

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Her





















Black and white never suited her.

Analysis so cold, so calculating...
can't possibly comprehend,
the deeper thunderstorms...
raging on in a human being.

For the caliber of life's irony
begs everyone to question "normal."

Quantified by icy eyes,
it leaves us and them.
Those lacking, those better,
those best...
Till it leaves all of us,

doesn't it.

So don't try to reach her...
dont come preaching
some contemptible "cure."
Dont you dare...

Dont pretend anything more,
is happening here.
Dont complicate this
simple transaction...

Her body laid bare to you
and your soul laid bare to her.
Each breaking the other,
view by view.

For she will not yield.

With an analytic prowess,
shameful for her to wield,
her storms will find your chest.

Sterile incision after incision,
all the truths, doubts, crippling fears,
pushing her into that wall,
will turn on you...
with fire, tears, and
tortuous precision.

For though this world doesn't suit her,
she will no longer be cornered by it.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

I want to hold your hand





















Little darling, I live for your smile,
I love the grasp of your petite palms.
Your eyes are new and know no guile,
you sing to me with sweet, soft psalms.

Melody maiden, I feel your heart beat,
I feel the simplicity of your laughter.
You need nothing but tiny shoes on tiny feet,
To bring me along into your ever after.

So take me with you when you take flight,
your mind soaring into castles and creations.
When you walk as dawnbreaker's first light,
caring little for gravity's trivial frustrations.

By the water, I consider my chance at blue,
Take the time to memorize your happy heart.
Ive waited so long to find someone like you,
To look back and know this was the start.

And I will walk with you all my days,
Till time lays its hold over me again.
Ill cherish your cheeks, your little ways,
Ill hold your hand, see where you've been.

And when its time for you to fade into blue,
go with the salted, whispered quiet knowledge.
that it was such a privilege loving you,
that no matter what school, or what college,
takes you away...
you are so loved.


Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Miracle


















In sickness, revolution, and changeless death,
the world is on fire with a dying beauty.
Mortality, prostitution and ill fated breath:
my desperations, deep and old, fueling me.

Comfortably sad, coldly set within my head,
I look upon the finite with calculated conviction.
Incarcerated, walking green miles till dead,
my dreams' wings remain flights of bad fiction.

For hope has become so very dangerous, so rare,
experience has seen so many beloved stars fade.
Most nights Im too afraid to let myself care,
no eye contact, nothing to give, nothing to trade.

A scientist, able to quantify the weights upon me.
At once so small, so incapable of impossible flight.
Another mathematician of guilt ridden gravity,
on trial before a billion trillion burning lights.

But with that said...
I dont understand darling...
how I feel the way I feel.
How can I love again, care again, this strong?
My equations, my mind,
controls taken, variables defined,
failed to let me heal.

But you...
So gently, so carefully,
in morning kisses and evening song,
taught me that without miracles...
I was seeing everything... completely wrong.

You have taken me, heart in hand,
commanded me to trust again, to trust you.
And with fear of the man Ive been,
of the things he knew...Im listening.

For you are a numerical impossibility,
an angel of faith,
yet bounded by mortality.
Two universes of beauty,
coalesced at an unimaginable intersection,
telling me that my heart is safe.

That no matter the probability...
love may yet find me.

Monday, April 6, 2015

occasional thoughts




















Here's to the thoughts that find us in the stillness of the night. Here's to the quiet that cant be ignored. World, my mind is taking me places I no longer want to be. My reason is even and the symmetry of the situation is beautiful, but in such a sorrowful way. Its with a writer's smile that I simply enjoy the caliber of irony present in life. Relationships in life are full of double edged points and principled lines. Im separated from people by insincerities and hypocrisies beyond my ability to change. Very early on I realized how my eyes would never allow me to be blind to the simple nature of mortal sin. But constant in every breath, I am saturated in realities I cannot address. They are there, within me, around me, and above me and they leave me alone. Caught in my silent vigil and left to wander in their wake, I spend my nights busied with life or often like this; contemplating the loneliness of the witness unable to not see the world around him.

I wish it was with some empowered and emotion fueled tears that I typed such things, but sadly it has become something of acknowledged and accepted fact. As a veteran of this world, I have come to be free within myself. There is even enjoyment in my life. For the most part I find too much time to smile lately. And there in lies the constant irony. That which I crave is a righteous happiness and yet those two are often set in opposition to one another. Do I reach out to love and pluck it from it's forbidden tree? Do I connect to a family grown distant from the principles they no longer wish to be bothered with? Do I ignore the history separating me from my home and fall into its arms?

And it must be a thing of rare beauty to see the death of a phoenix fire; the triumphant and elusive ending of an ancient immortal. A death caused by a love so red and toxic in its passion, that even a mighty poet of fiery flight could not endure it.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Song of the Earth






















I see you there...
so brave
so strong in the dark.
Fighting things you dont know.
And I shouldnt stare,
nor save
nor send a spark.
But I cannot let you go.

In the grand melody,
you are so small,
so afraid of the rain.
And I, just as afraid...
Can I bring you to me,
answer your call,
end your pain?

For all the world ends...
nothing lasts forever,
our love will die a mortal.
For death itself deepens,
thunder far darker than weather.
It holds sway your soul,
and leaves my optimism numb.

But,
Perhaps my fearful distance...
though just
doesnt translate to love...
Should my heart turn your way?
While truth and consequence,
deception and distrust,
rage below and rise above?
Might I be in love with you,
a midst the storm come what may?

How desperately I'll hope to find,
that the world will move for love.
That the vastness of space isn't cold.
that its enough to hold you,
destiny changed, story untold.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Hungry














My eyes open, I stride, beat in hand,
desperate, afraid, but ever unbroken.
No cost, no sin, will hold sway my fate,
for with pain there is privilege,
with love enough its never too late.

And how strongly I yearn myself free,
feeling crushed, treated wrongly,
by the unprepared, rushed, intensity
of my own midnight thoughts.

Confounded, hurt, by these limitations,
my reason strains to understand.
As if a child, reprimanded, grounded,
running from emotions, shameful to hold...
pushed out, unable to stay, forced to go.

For these questions, riddles from God,
cannot be answered by currency.
Swallowed, pleasured, however indecently.
They remain; prophetic words, asking me,
 who I am and what it means...
to be hungry.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Will you walk with me?
















In mazes of stone, calculated bricks,
with traces of bone and candle sticks...
Will you walk with me...
when I dont know the way?

In towering heights, exalted spires,
too long nights, and starlight fires...
Will you dance with me...
when I turn towards the sky?

In happier moments, loud extremes,
with peppermints as winter streams...
Will you make love to me...
when I smile your way?

In thinner times, unbalanced equation,
skinnier mimes, silenced by persuasion...
Will you follow with me...
if I choose the sky?

In anything, darling, heaven or earth,
on the wing, trials or childbirth,
I will walk with you...
will you walk with me too?





Friday, March 6, 2015

All's fair






















forgiveness hides from us all, dear,
It leaves me arrogant and it condemns you.
For I am no judge, my waters too are unclear,
equally as soiled, murky, Im nothing new.

Perhaps we both know that, perhaps we don't,
just dont fool yourself with that bath water.
I know your intentions when you cant, won't,
I know, dear, like father like adopted daughter.

You no longer relish the shortness of my breaths,
for you know your body means nothing to me.
The algorithms to your curves, heights, depths,
amount to a mind I will never be able to unsee.

I will not relent my condemnation, my vision,
and maybe there's a lesson in there somewhere.
For I, the untouchable, and you, on God's mission,
have both done unspeakable things... conscience clear.

Friday, February 27, 2015

Doubt




















With younger eyes,
I once imaged the tethers were reins,
my feet would street stampede,
my chin would ride high,
and my road was bright.

But there's no white horses here.

Born into bankruptcy, into destitution,
silence is justice,
must only be love.
So I'm just... not good enough,
the bastard child with no hope below,
and no answers from above.

Somewhere,
in the unquestionable virtues of radiant white feathers,
I've come to know shackles when I see them.
For with tears I have called out for reasons...
but with far more tears,
I've been ignored.

No longer do I aspire to worlds of white-
visions of clouds seen from the other side.
my faith is gone, my allegiance unclear.
for I refuse to serve an absentee father,
refuse to call love, fear.

Ill make substitutions instead;
trade my dreams for addictions
that will hold me whenever I call.
Ill decide on tragedy,
resolve myself to damnation.
At least in my own world,
where I hold the keys to creation,
my compromises
will never promise to make me happy.

Friday, February 13, 2015




















Im obliged to fulfill contracts in kind,
accepted like a sword on my shoulder,
a sort of knighting, a life's blood signed,
and a revered pride granted the holder.

Im coerced by convention, admitted ease,
wanting so badly to know my place,
if only to dance along in social treatise,
and capture gold with class and grace.

For though we are not who we use to be,
souls aged into the lines we compose,
my eyes are still blinded by your beauty,
by your cares, your love, and how it grows.

And for all the storms I find myself in,
all the forces that play master to my day,
I have known no greater happiness within,
than to come home to you, even if I cant stay.


Monday, January 26, 2015

"is it really so?"




















Please, my darling... close your eyes,
see compromises that go unchecked.
and know, its not just you that cries,
that I too feel this cannot be correct.

For I do feel... more than you know,
my hands hurt with the loss of you.
But some things only time can show,
some pains teach the heart what's true.

Like dominoes, I know your mother well,
her story, your story, and the fine fight.
But I have no answers, nothing to tell,
just my little love as a night light.

For the world has grown dark and gray,
troubled by answers you had to know.
Now you can barely hear the words I say,
while the world echoes with the question,
"is it really so?"

Sunday, January 18, 2015

the dream





















It was different then...
we still needed each other.

Nothing was sweeter
than your hand in mine,
your heart beat...
in my own chest.

United by survival,
we triumphed in shared ambitions:
like filling the fridge,
lighting cucumber melon candles...
and doing laundry.

Like little patriots
we declared our creativity,
aspired to the challenges
with elegance and novelty,
pursuing happiness vigorously.

I've never known such a time,
as when we stood eye to eye.
Cant recall smiling more,
than hearing your quiet voice
singing to yourself.

Focused and alive,
kept from boredom,
building a life as your knight;
my lady, my mission, my love.



Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Burned Before













I find security in watching from windows,
viewpoints that shift but do not change.
I find sweet desperation that comes and goes,
visualizing my targets...
my glassy shooting range.

Would it surprise you to know I still smell you,
still trace your scent across currents let in?
And no wind blown hand washing is true,
nothing erases my footprints...
or where they've been.

But I'm an old soul, not easily swept from reason,
my decisions stand as a measure to the man I am.
My goals are accomplished with no need of a gun,
yet burdened by ability, vulnerable,
caught in the door jam.

I bare witness to every passion that goes unlit,
or every empty story stretched out across the line.
I shake my head in halls of ivory, loving it,
observing every foolish mistake...
satisfied to watch lest I call them mine.

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Stars

















Energy to matter;
composed in three dimensional lyrics,
willed for the sake of limitless beauty.
Desired to be needed, broken to be fixed,
taken to be freed, polarized two, you, me.

Separated from each other to be united,
challenged to be triumphantly overcome
we float in endless cold to be ignited,
waiting, burning, aching to become one.

Matter to energy,
Finite beings forming unlikely connections,
flaring into that dark night something new.
For in the midst of our souls detonations,
I stand in a field of supernovas waiting for you.

The foundation of my soul is written,
the distance between us is shrinking.
And in the world's melody, we fit in,
two stars calling to each other, twinkling.


Sunday, November 23, 2014

















Chilling the ground and stilling the waters,
a storm in stride has begun to descend.
Bending backs, aging sons, slapping daughters.
Forming the stalemate bringing their end.

This night; this echo of sunlight wanes,
It grows darker in the spaces between.
And long has the earth, the weather vanes,
whispered all the things we should've seen.



Thursday, November 20, 2014

Chapter 2

Id seen enough to know that if they caught me here, like this, I would die. I couldnt hear them over the sound of the burning but they werent as deterred by the flames as I thought they would be. Maybe I had waited too long.

Closer and closer, they moved towards the house. Now my limited view could not shield me from seeing their eyes; dark, bloodshot, and hungry. Now I saw my adversary clearly. They were starving and looked almost a little deranged. Thirst too? Perhaps, but not quite. Something was off about these already off creatures. From the back of the group came shouts; a horrible rasping and deep growling sound. "The leader," I thought. The others responded uniformly and immediately to his call. "Yup." One by one they moved in towards the house. As they got closer I lost sight of them. Then I heard the shattering of the wood, as if struck by some dull heavy handed object. Mace probably.

They were in the house. My hands began to shake with readiness. My paces elevated even higher and I closed my eyes to steady myself. My jaw clenched with summoned resolve. If I must die...they will all die too. I will not fall to this.

And then the wait. I couldnt see them outside the house. I couldnt hear them moving around down stairs either, but I knew they were there. In this space between facing my enemy and actually engaging them...I was terrified. I dont know where they are. My breathing began to increase to a frantic pulsing in and out. I forced myself to sit up a little straighter. I flexed my muscles and gripped the knife in my hand. These next few moments would be life and death; breathing and worm food.

It was then that I heard noise loud enough to champion over the flames crackling. The sound of fighting. Grunting and knocking about wafted up to second floor like the waves of mirage heat. For first time, hope rose in my chest. My eyes lightened and I knew there was a chance. Slowly I crept, smashing myself against the cold stones of the floor toward staircase. Though the stairs had long been burned away, the hole in the floor remained. Adrenaline rushed through me as I neared the portal, until at last I inched my eyes over the edge at a corner. Trying to show as little as possible of my face, I just barely peeked over the corner.

At last I could see my predators clearly. To my surprise, they were not monsters or vile creatures at all. These were men, however filthy and barbaric. They were fighting among themselves, for whatever reason barbarians fight. My eyes evaluated the scene quickly. Moving passed the initial analysis, I began to take in important information: how many, how armed, weaknesses, escape routes. In the corner of the decrepit house, two dark forms were slumped against a wall. Then I saw her. A small, pale faced girl was bound tightly huddled against a wall. The fighters were four, squabbling in the middle of the room over what appeared to be a large shiny sword. The remaining men were on either side forming a sort of outer ring. Bystanders...funny to think I was just like them.

Quickly my eyes returned to the girl. She was scared, but not terrified. I wonder how many such fights she has seen while in captivity. How long has she been in captivity? Where is she from...though her clothes were dirty, I could tell she was from somewhere foreign. My thoughts were torn from her with the sound of death. There is a noise every living creature makes when life is taken from them. A sort of gasping and hollowing out. My eyes flicked to see a sword protruding from one of the fighters. I met his eyes. He was staring at me with the shock of death. He stared at me until his head dropped and he fell to the floor. I was stunned. Fear rooted me not to move, but I wanted to. After 3 heartbeats I pulled away from the edge. Then slowly I peeked back out.The two brawlers in the middle had attained mastery over the other. One let out a victory roar. Pure animal brutality. It make me shiver. The other one did not make a noise. He was holding his side and his head was bowed. Then he too fell to the ground. The one that had roared looked down in disgust. He shouted something at the corpse on the floor and then spat at him. In his had was a beautiful sword, his prize, the living proof of his dominance.

 There were now 5 bodies on the floor. Good for me to be honest. Five bad guys that I didnt have to deal with.

Then I heard the same shout I had heard outside. "The leader," I thought. From across the room strode in the biggest of the men. A tall giant with an angry face and bloodstained clothes. He shouted again in some kind of language and immediately all the others stood a little straighter and moved toward the edge of the room, yielding center stage to him. He looked from man to man and shouted out what appeared to be orders. They each responded with obedient and swift movements around the room. Quickly the fire was put out, although it was already burning out. Grass burns fast and fierce. Faster than I thought possible, men took down the tree that had barely burnt and brought in wood for a legitimate fire.

I backed away from the stairway hole. Its only a matter of time they come up here. It seems I was wrong though. They know nothing of me and werent after me at all. They simple wanted shelter as I had. Now my thoughts turned to escape. It seemed that with the leader inside, they must all be inside. I moved swiftly to the side of the house and peeked over the half fallen wall. No one was in sight on this side. I can do this I thought. I can slip away. But I have to do this right. I cant break my leg and get away. I counted to myself, clenching my jaw. This is it. I threw myself over the wall and climbed down as fast and quietly as humanly possible and in a matter of seconds I made it to the ground with a soft thud. I steadied my feet and took off running. I didnt even look behind, I just ran with everything I could muster. Though the plane afforded little cover, there was a slight outcropping with some larger rocks and tall grass in the distance. If I could make it there I could hide and wait for them to move on.

Hope flooding my veins and thundered out my feet as I neared the outcropping. So slowly I made it across the field and put distance between me and the house. I was happy, I was victorious. I had escaped again from certain death. Finally I was there. I ducked into the rocks and looked back. No one had followed. I had made it out alive.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Runner













So again I break free from every cage,
every attachment to these inconsequentials.
I work my loneliness, true to me, freedoms wage,
and set out to fly into the blue like  sea gulls.

I grip tightly my control and muse at death,
imagining the swift jerk and painless glory.
How long before they wonder at my breath?
...how long would the cold road weep for me?

Yet this needle's comfort, this blade's draw,
marks out my way into the deep infinite night.
I am heartless, no remorse, made of straw,
I will not miss you till the squinting light.




Monday, October 13, 2014

Chapter 1

The morning was always soothing to me. The early light brought with it a certain forgiveness of the previous days events. I could smell faint wafts of smoke before I opened my eyes so I knew the little fire from yesterday was still barely smoldering. A slight breeze tickled my ears with the slight sound of a bell and I took a moment to enjoy the feeling before accepting the responsibility of sight. But eventually, I decided the hunger in my stomach and the threat of my fire going out was reason enough to embrace the day.

I opened my eyes and scanned the area, checking it against my memory. The fire was still in the corner of the uncovered room, my quilt was still under my body, and the old bell still hung in its have destroyed tower. I sat up and took a deep breath. Im still not sure what happened here. All that matters is that this structure had been made of stone, and had two stories so I could see the surrounding plains. Always on my wandering, I preferred to find such abandoned places. They offered visibility and the look of absence. Both were valuable for my survival.  But this structure was still curious to me. I had seen many ruined or burned towers, homes, or other kinds of dwellings, but the way this one had been destroyed was troubling. The parts not of stone had of course burned away, such as the stairs and rooftop. That was not so out of the ordinary. In fact, the art of scaling a decrepit building to get to the highest part had become a specialty to me. This one had two trees that use to grow next to the sun dawn side. Last night I had tested the blackened limbs carefully before putting my full weight on them. Though my initial path up the tree brought me down when one of them broke, my next attempt was successful. Trees were always the best way to get onto a second floor. Since my journey to these plains, Ive noticed it an odd coincidence that every house had at least two trees in the yard. Must be some kind of tradition in these parts.

Looking around now even those trees seem odd. The bottoms of the trees were not burnt. The building itself was just the same way. I walked to the edge of the floor and leaned out over the half broken wall. I could just see the green paint of the bottom of the front door. It had been spared the flames as well. I took a moment to ponder of these strange signs and had to wonder what could cause this kind of devastation. After a moment of so, I leaned back and turned tower the corner where my fire had been hidden from the wind. Then my gaze turned toward the old bronze colored bell still hanging in its tower. After a moments inspection, I realized that it must have been part of a pair of bells. It wasnt centered in the broken archway, but put to one side. There must have been two bells that hung in the tower, sharing the arch equally. I walked toward it and reached out to touch the brisk metal. It was cold to the touch and it left black soot on my hands. I wrote, "what happened here," by wiping away the soot to reveal a contrasting brighter bronze and then wiped my finger tip off on my sleeve. How did this happen, I wondered. Then it occurred to me to look over the edge of arch. Perhaps the bells fallen mate might still be there on the ground. I leaned out and peered out over the yard. After a moment or two, I caught sight of a glinting metal on the ground. "There you are," I muttered. I determined that inspecting the other bell would be the first chore for the day once I left the roof top.

First, however, I had to get that fire going again. The mystery of this building intrigued me and I wasnt particularly inclined to move on. Well, then again, perhaps I should move on. Though I like to sleep under the stars and these plains offered the biggest skies, finding shelter from the wind to nurse a fire into health was kind of a pain. Not only that but Frost would soon be here. Almost day to day, I could feel the temperature dropping. Nights were becoming colder and the winds were less and less pleasant. I needed to find a shelter of some kind for lasting protection. Some place to wait out the season and await the warming sun. This building was solid, but without a roof, any kind of precipitation was gonna pose a problem. I sighed. These were the dilemmas of the open road.

My stomach grumbled. My thoughts were thus interrupted and I sat back down on my quilt. With my back to the tallest part of the broken wall, I opened up my pack. I crossed my legs and slowly laid out my things on the rest of my quilt. Three throwing knives remained of the eight I recovered from the dead soldiers in the hills. With a sigh I laid them out next to each other, mourning the loss of the other five. Then my hands returned to the pack. Though it was morning the light was still weak and in the shadow of the wall it was hard to see so I leaned in closer and strained my eyes. Eagerly I shoved a random glove I had scavenged to one side of the pack and found what my stomach was searching for. Wrapped in a piece of cloth, I had two small loaves of hearty bread. Excitedly, I pulled out the small parcel and unwrapped the loaves. Though they were a little smashed from their time serving as a pillow in my pack last night, they looked wonderful. I tore the loaves apart and soon there was nothing left of them. The sensation of swallowing food and the crunch of the odd grain here and there was wonderful. Nothing ever tastes as good as when you havent eaten.

With my stomach full of delicious bread, my bodies other needs began to take precedence. Though it was wonderful to have food in my belly, my throat was dry and I was on the edge of shivering. I looked around the little rectangular space and...nope...no water. With a sigh, I put that on hold and stood up. I stretched my arms toward the sky and let out a loud yawn. "Maybe I cant manifest something to drink, but I can get you going," I said to the small pile of ashes. I walked over the burnt tree that had provided me access the roof and retraced my steps back down it. As I made it to the trunk of the tree I thought briefly of my knives but kept going. Once on the ground, I looked around the various grasses that had grown up around the stone walls of the house. Then I thought again of how strange it was not to see more signs of fire on the ground. There were areas where the grass had been singed and burnt down but most of it remained tall. Really, quite strange.

I moved around the house pulling various dead grasses and sticks up. The sticks I threw up onto the roof and the grasses I shoved under my belt. Eventually, I had sort of a skirt and that was my cue to go up to start the fire, but then I thought of the other bell. I raised my eyebrows and walked over to the side of the house the bell was on. It only took a moment to find it. With the light much stronger and my eyes shaken from sleep, I could see it clearly hiding half sunk into the ground. I bent over and pulled the weeds away from it and tugged at rounded edge that was still sticking out. At first it didnt give way, much to my impatience and frustration. I was surprised in fact by how it didnt budge. "Pshh," I muttered, and I kicked it, which was stupid because it only hurt my foot. "Ahh, come on," I said exasperatedly. Then I centered my weight around the bell put both hands on it and tugged with my full body. This time, I felt it move and start coming up from the ground. "Finally," I said. Once it was free, I let go of the cold metal and looked at my hands. The skin burned from the struggle and I said, "pshh," once more. Then I looked down at my prize. After a second or two, I looked from the rooftop to the bell and back again. "How...am I gonna get you up there," I whispered slowly. My mind worked on it for a moment and I considered strategies involving trees or catapults. Nothing really seemed plausible at the moment, so I decided to put that on hold too. "Water, bell, weird fire," I said to myself. "I'll figure it out," I said, and returned back up the tree to my rooftop.

Once there, I looked around at what my foraging had accomplished. Sticks of various size littered the floor. Lazily, I moved around and gathered them into the corner by pushing them with my feet. Then I took the grasses my under my belt and crinkled them up into a ball. With any luck the embers I had smelled when first waking would still be alive. Gingerly, I searched through the ashes and shrunken limbs to find the source of the faint smoke. My fingers quickly sensed heat and I found the infant flame. Like a tender father, I fed the flame a diet of dried grass and breath. I had definitely gotten better at this because soon the flame grew and matured into something useful. From grasses to sticks to snapped off tree limbs, I soon had a fire again. This process, though a chore, always brought me a source of pride and accomplishment. Even times as desperate as these were improved by the symphony of crackling flames.

With a deep breath, I moved back away from the fire to my possessions. My pack, now empty, seemed sad. The knives went to my waist, occupying the space the grass had, and the quilt went back into the pack. "There, all ready," I said and shifted back toward the fire. The flames warmed my face and felt good on my legs. I took off my shoes and rubbed a little more life into my feet. I knew I couldnt stay here for long. Without the cover of darkness the smoke would attract attention before long. Last night I knew the light was a risk, but wedged into the corner and considering the circumstances it was a risk I was prepared to take. Now that I had eaten, rested, and survived the night without attack, I had enough hope in me to consider playing it safe. So I let myself enjoy the morning and the fire, and the sound of the swaying bell. But I also began to store up my courage for the day, slowly gripping the handles of my knives tighter and tighter.

These three were among the very little of all I had left. The last year had taken so much from me, so much that no amount of distance or preoccupation could give back. It seemed strange to become so connected to things that could not last. My home had burned in front of me, blackening my face with ashes. And yet, I cannot hold fire accountable for that ruin, for the fire warms my feet now. Fire has often been the difference between dying chilled to the bone or surviving the night.

"No, its not fire's fault," I said to myself. "I may never know who or what came upon us that night. All I need to know is that my father was more than he seemed and the last I saw of him was... this pearlescent light... flying over the ground faster than was humanly possible..."

I drifted off into thoughts of that night. The fire crackled and the little stick fortress I had constructed collapsed. My eyes lazily moved to address the problem. Subconsciously I decided to let the flames fizzle out because it was time to move anyway. That and I knew those following me would undoubtedly find this camp. If the fire was completely put out, they would assume I had left for good. If the flames were still smoldering it would delay them. So I should just let go, perhaps buy myself an extra hour or two.

I lingered in thought for a while more. My head became tight and I clenched my jar. Specific memories...voices, the smell of my blankets, the touch of my mother's hand filled me with such sadness. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes for just a moment before I cleared them away.

I took a deep breath. And then another. "I cannot change these things, I cannot," I said with almost a whimper. It occurred to me briefly about how free I was to express this sadness. For neither the fire, the bell, or the stones in the wall would ever judge my weakness. Their unseeing gaze would never shame me with tales of my lonesome nights, or even more lonely mornings. "You guys have enough to worry about," I laughed wryly, my eyes motioning around at their state of decomposition. No, here I was free to cry. Free let my guard down and go over and over the years events...and yet, I was not free.

The wind blew harder than the occasional slight breeze and carried with it a peculiar smell of burning. This isn't the aromatic burning of wood but rather a stinging smell.

My face tightened and my heart beat slowed. If I can smell them, they're close. Do I run, I thought. My hands again remembered that which they were holding and I thought again of how poorly armed I was. Quickly, I put on my shoes, tying them almost uncomfortably tight, and began weighing my options.

Slowly I evaluated my surroundings with a new criteria. Stone walls and elevation were a strong advantage. Plus, being runned down on the open plains was not a good thought. But I definitely had no chance of repelling any real raiding party. How dearly I missed my bow. The past year had taught me how to throw a knife with some accuracy, but nothing could compare to having a bow and full quiver. "Never trust a woman," I said out loud, shaking my head. I rubbed my temple. "Think Sky, think!" I moved my hand over my eyes and squinted into the darkness.

"What if..." my voice trailed off. "That...could...work," I slowly muttered, working my way through an idea. "Well, either it works or thats all for me," I asserted. Then it was time to put my plan into action.

I got up and smoothed out my shirt. Scrambling down the tree, I tore at the ground for things that would burn easily. Viciously, I ripped up the grasses, that previously I had so discriminately moved over, and threw them on top of the house. This time I will litter the place with burnable things and not be cleaning them up. However, I knew that while these grasses would burn readily and quickly, they would not last long. However, perhaps to recreate the kind of fire that took this place down, all I have to do is burn the top? I dont know, but that's what Im going for. I next moved to the tree. With all the skill I could manage, I started snapping random branches off. "I dont want them to be able to tell this was done recently. I just need things to burn," I thought. Adrenaline started rising in me. I have to get this going. If they see the house go up, they will know. But if the first time they see it burning, perhaps they will move on. "This has to work!" I told myself.

Just before I decided to set everything on fire and hide it occurred to me to sweep the area for tracks. I let out a sigh. If I had forgotten to do that! With some skill and a definite quickness in my step, I hurried about the circumference of the house sweeping the ground with a wad of grasses. Not bad for a make shift hand broom. In just a few moments, my work was done and I hurried to get up the tree and hide.

My pulse had started to raise and I was suddenly filled with the desperation to succeed at this trickery. "See, you do want to live," I mused to myself. I looked at the fire, now in front of me. I thought for a moment. "Ok," I said, and used my "broom" as a torch. It only took a moments coaxing to set it alight. With extreme hunger the flames consumed the tips of the yellow straws and began inching down towards my hand. I then moved around the roof setting various piles of grass on fire. Very quickly I was surrounded by heat and very unexpectedly afraid to be standing where I was. I looked around, my eyes wide with doubt and worry, and found a spot to crouch down. It was the farthest from any other fire and next to the wall so at least that side would be cool. Just then, I felt the heat my touch start to burn my hand. Instinctually I dropped it, but then made a split second decision to pick it back up and toss into the tall grass growing around the house. Then I dropped low and pushed myself as close to the cool stones of the wall as I could. I took out my knife and began working on the mortar, worming my way through it to form a hole. After a while I had poked a hole just in time to see their glinting armor near the house. I couldnt see their eyes, but I knew they were searching for signs of life. Through the haze I began counting. My vision was frustratingly limited but already I could see at least fifteen or so brutes. Big, heavy footed, adorned with skulls and hungry; they sniffed at the air and walked a little closer. "This is it," I thought.