Words

Closing my weary eyes, trying to escape the fear looming like a forgotten friend that’s best left that way, I know that I cannot escape the situation no matter how I evade the scene. Words, some light, many heavy, some destructive and few wishing to bring light, float through the air and no matter how I try there’s no escape from the room. I've, we, all of us, have a fear deep within, the moments that we knew and know were to come.

As a child, you hold the hands of your loved ones, safe, comforted, basking in the warmth that sustains your smile and caresses your heart. We seldom move back to the thoughts of those times, the moments of love, as we’re pre-occupied with the daily life, the hustle to grow up, faster and faster until we’re at the point where we’d actually like to be young again. Children become adults, adults become parents and the cycle continues.

There’s a fable, a warning, a conclusion of sorts, a momentary flicker of thought, that we should all prepare for, many knowing what I'm talking about. We’re frail, we’re weak, we’re but flesh, blood and bone, with imaginations that make us superstars, super heroes, titans of strength and passion, bleeding from our souls with fruitless words and actions.  Our actions belittle the ideal that we’re removed from this world with the flicker of a flame.

Breathing in, remaining calm, with focus, I listen to the words and take them within. My mind wants to scream, to escape, to proclaim that this cannot be. It never happens to you or the people you love. Surely not, you jest, but yesterday this was not the case, with more random thoughts invading sanity.

If I could rewind to yesterday, I’d do x differently, I’d do such and such, but what’s left is a possible y. This isn't maths, or maybe it is, maybe it’s all decided years previous.  No matter what happens, no matter the outcome, I refuse my inner voice access to my thoughts. There will be no torture from within as that not me and that shouldn't be you. There will be smiles, there will be warmth, there will be holding of hands and nothing spoken of pain, tears, hearts breaking or the inner cold that’s infecting my soul. This isn't about me, it’s not about you, as it’s all about someone you love going through something so real that you’re all awakened to the realism that’s called… life.

We have but mere moments, that may stretch to years and years, but in the great scheme of things it’s still that flame’s flicker. Turn to someone you love, listen to someone you adore, caress the lips of those that care and hold their warmth against you. Time is unknown, time is the one thing that’s a mystery, so take that time to hold your own heart and keep it safe.

For the moment, I pray for another day, I'm lucky to see each new day with the person and people that I love. I'm never, ever, going to let those days be wasted. Or say I say, or so I hope with the words I think and write.

Halloween

The mist crept through the vineyard, possessing a life of its own, with a near endless quantity. Decrepit shards of masonry, strewn across the ground from the old building, littered themselves around the area of a once proud building. Gone, lost, no longer residing within the current world deft of life and charm. Destroyed. Vanquished. Banished from the world many years beforehand.

Stretching his arm, with an uneasy movement, crippled, decayed, near lifeless, he could feel the mist flow through him, on this night, bringing forward life and renewed vigour.  He could feel it, once again, his heart murmuring just under his exposed rib cage. It was his time, that time of year, where he once again had a moment.  Sure, the moments never lasted but minutes, but this was all he desired. There were thoughts of becoming free but, after centuries, such luxuries were pushed aside in favour of recovering as fast as possible. He’d made a promise and he would keep that promise.

A fleeting image passed through his thoughts, that night, this night, where they were dragged from their beds. He could still hear her screaming as his body was pierced multiple times over. Again, then again, with the vendetta that left his last few seconds confused and longing to reach her. As he fell he could feel his spirit, some would say aura, leave his body retreating into the building behind where he fell. Then, darkness, the nothing, the prison of silence and despair.

The first time he returned, the year after, he could barely summon enough energy to stand let alone walk. He’d forgotten, hardly cared, as reaching her was his only vision. He was now striding across through the grass and, as he raised his arm, he could feel the skin slowly returning to his arm and fingers. He was nearly whole, as whole as a person could be in his circumstances, but although he was reaching a new place he reminded himself that time was scarce.

Running over the brow he caught sight of her. As his eyes focused, his heart skipped, nearly stopped, again, but he kept on running. She had formed, was one, looking across to him. As he neared, his pace slowed and, with an outstretched arm, his fingers met hers and they embraced. No thoughts, no pain, ignoring the suffering, her lips met his and his renewed spirit started to glow. “I made you a promise that no matter what happened, even if I died, that I would never, ever, leave you!” he said with tears flowing from his eyes.

A single, solitary, solemn angst filled tear fell from an eye and moved across her lips as she looked up at him, “I knew. I knew that you’d come for me!  They hurt me…”

He placed a finger to her lips, silencing the pain, the agony, “No more. No-one will ever hurt you again!”

As they renewed their embrace, emotions flowing through them, he felt his skin vanish and, as he looked into her eyes, knowing that their bodies were vanishing in front of them, they both smiled. As their bones fell he could feel his spirit, finally, together with hers and, as they both flickered, they knew that had beaten the people that had damned them to be apart.

After all, he damn well knew that a man’s promise should always, always, be upheld with honour no matter the centuries.

Happy Halloween.

One

I recall the hours, filled with the seconds of you, exciting, inspiring, including smiles and those looks between us. We were flying high, right up there in the sky, never wanting to fall or to come down. I used to hold you, never ever scolding you, as we were both free spirits combined into one.  There were even words spoken, of love, of being together forever, but like many real life fairy tales the dreams came true but they couldn't, wouldn't, ever last.

Instead, in the wake of the events that followed, I instead become truly a person of one. Me, I, just the singular, realising that the love I show myself is the most magical aspect of life for a person to understand. We’re all alone, even when surrounded by people, trapped within, realising each and every sin, we commit to ourselves and others.

Life might forgive me, may forget us, but the heart still beats, it still recalls, still imagines a new place. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I still miss you, I always will, even if I share my bed with another, share my kisses with a few, you’re still there amongst the thoughts smiling as you did.

I’ll never forget you. Ever.

Love x

P.s. Standard disclaimer to the people that know me: No hidden meaning here. Just listening to a song and writing!

Dream

Originally written around April 2008. Excuse the lack of punctuation, extra long sentences and mistakes.  I try not to change what has already been set in stone.

She looked down at the desk, at the small scrap of paper curled into a ball, at the old pen beside the paper and most of all, at the desk itself. Her eyes felt heavy, tired, weary, struggling to bridge the words inside onto the paper that now rested on the table. Lyrics, at times, seemed to flow with beauty, with ease, but understanding on this day, a day of days, had not arose as easily as they should have. Muddled, slightly here, a little there, but obviously not quite whole, she closed her eyes.

In that second, she imagined herself in another place, somewhere completely different from the desk, from the room that her spirit frequented each day, somewhere serene.  In a second, with her mind seeing the moment, she stood in the middle of a sea of green, a world filled with long, waist high flowing grass. Her eyes opened to see the flowing sun around her, with a bright blue sky above and slow birds flying as high as any kite. The world slowed, almost halted in time, peace, a place to envision.. everything, anything, nothing, any moment, any time and most of all, to explore.

The long free grass moved softly, side to side, back and forth, with the gentle soft wind pressing the grass as if it were a kiss. She lifted her hands to rest on top of the grass and moved forward, towards the tree in the distance, not that far away, just enough, just that distance away to appreciate the gentle walk. Her hair moved with the romantic wind, the air that gently caressed her soft face, as if it simply wished to hold her, comfort her, touching with such care and attention, that every breeze seemed like there was love all around. 

She span around with a twirl, head looking into the warm sky, freedom, not a worry in this peaceful garden of her imagination, a place that exhumed the way things could be, had been, will be, again and again, as long as she remembered. A smile grew, her hair relaxed from the spin and her body exhaled such strength at the freedom, bliss and tranquillity. She reached the tree and sat down, with her back to the ageless bark.

Time once again stood still as she looked across the endless scene of blue sky and green slender thought, each strand moving with said tender romantic kisses. Here, this place, this moment, held such power, freedom, a place and chance to dream, to clear the clouds from her sky. Leaning forward, She picked a buttercup from the ground and gently moved it across her cheek, feeling the soft petals as she again looked out across the vista. Amazing.

Just at that second, she closed her eyes again, opened her ears and just... listened. There was the wind, again, making itself known, ensuring that it’s warm touches were not forgotten amongst the sound of grass moving, birds chirping and shadows that didn’t exist with closed eyes. This place, this imaginative moment, calmed every, single, small, thought and feeling. She opened her eyes and looked at the desk, pen and paper. Life always posed such possibilities, such situations that exposed her resolve, chipping at her confidence, wrestling with her doubt, then, often providing unimaginable sparks.  She picked up the paper, using both hands to unravel, to place the same paper, unfolded, onto the desk. With pen in hand, she carried on writing:

This morning I awoke to a sea of green, to a sky of blue, with strands of thought as real as you

The air held me in its arms and moved the sky above........

Perfect

It is cold, possibly quite a bold statement, but the words had to be sold to you this way. The truth, the very aspect of informing someone of their indulgence, their transparency to the world, is seemingly something of a sin. Dare you voice your concerns, hatefully imagining a world of truth, opening your voice to the ideals of how things vicariously are viewed.

At what point do we take a step back from where we stand? Lies are one thing. Cruel, vicious, slandering lies, that eat into our lives but they’re somewhat accepted by most. The truth, from the other side, is something that one simply must never speak. Am I this, am I that, should I be there or should I dare? Heaven help the soul that’s freed by truth.

As a youngster I was often taunted for being thin. I was then scolded by words with regards to acne. It took years, months, days of reflection to finally deduce that it didn’t matter what the outside stated to the world. My outside skin, the suit that I wear, doesn’t speak to me. It doesn’t calm me. It simply… is. I wear my skin each day, I stride and I might often bounce around, being silly as sin, capable of smiles amongst the trials. I’m me. The above is nothing new, maybe even considered normal, as each generation lives through the same cruelty.

Now, after all these years, I’m still confined, herded, into the crowd of men and women of the world. Heaven help me, save my soul, brand my skin, never let me be alive and let me go. I’ve never actually liked my looks, which is an honest answer, but I’ve come to terms with x, the y of the universe. I appreciate myself, I actually like myself, which is a rare event within this space.

We strive to be individuals, we want to set ourselves into a place filled with the space of our own importance. It’s natural, it’s safe, in a way, nothing out of the ordinary but the moment you smile, the lies start to form. In this place, set around you, there are people that are not happy. These people won’t admit it, even if they speak the words, as it’s often ignored in favour of self-preservation or the fear of actually doing something about it all.

The lies, from their lips, are disguised in a way. Each and every single time someone puts you down, stops you being happy, changes your willingness to be an individual, it’s a lie. Why do you do this? Why do you do that? That’s not normal? Normal is as normal can be which, to me, is absolutely boring. If a person is happy, with themselves, people need not bother to view you as anything other than whom you are.

If you’re thin, or have weight, with large or small ears, it matters not. Anyone that affords you the negative words spilled from their lips is a liar. If you’re not the same as that person, then there must be something wrong? Hardly. People being unhappy with themselves has bred hatred, wars, ignorance and pain. The colour of your skin, the eyelashes you wear, the shape of your lips, the size of a person’s hips, matters not. We’re all different.

There’s no room for lies in this world. Acceptance, tolerance, respect and smiles is all that we really need. We see a map, the next town over, we learn to dislike based on a name, a place, the lies spew forward and the bigots grasp their venom. We see this each and every single day by the media we watch, our friends and even our own parents. It’s instilled, passed forward and a learned response.

Stop the lies. Start with the truth. We all know what, where, who and probably why. We can hardly call someone this, or that, while actually being the other. To stop someone being happy, while being unhappy yourself, not quite satisfied with the way you are, is basically all a great big lie. Once you accept yourself, like yourself, even love yourself, you suddenly no longer care to put others down. Accept your own truth, embrace your own thoughts, realise that you, as well as the others that we sometimes slander, are nowhere close to being perfect.

Difference?

Reaching out, that little bit further with each passing moment, he finally touched her fingertips and sighed a gasp of relief. With added certainty and added endurance he pulled her forward, just enough, in order to reach in with his other arm. Now, with both hands grasping hers, he pulled with all the energy he had. Feet wedged on either side of the building, arms through the hole basically filled with earth, he smiled as her fingers, hands, then arms appeared from under the rubble.

As the rest of her body appeared into view he scooped her into his arms, lifting her as he stood upright, turning to walk down towards the rubble strewn road.  He glanced at her face, a pretty young girl, probably 28 to 34 or somewhere in between. Her face was covered in dirt and dust. He could hear he breathing, shallow, broken, not quite as it should be. He wouldn't blame or say anything to anyone that had been subjected to such an ordeal but, as was his life, he did try to look towards the positive side even if this did not look that way. This was anything but positive. He’d feared such a thing happening but not this close, not this close, to where his beating heart resided.

He knew that no-one had expected such a thing to happen but, like any form of cancer, any type of disease, it didn't really mean that much until it happened to you. His friends, his family, lived a life of virtual ignorance. He’d often thought about talking each of them out for the day, for them to really see what the world looked like beyond the glass covered television and safe daily routines. That, of course, wouldn't help with his thoughts.

Looking into the young girl’s eyes, his smile trying to re-assure her, she started to choke. Placing her quickly onto the ground he called for assistance but, in front of his very eyes, her rapid movements ceased and he instantly knew the outcome. She was gone. Kneeling, a hand on his face, it hit him in an instant and tears formed. The ambulance staff member, as she arrived in front of him, quickly understood the situation and, placing a hand onto his shoulder, nodded. He reminded himself to breath, to take control of the situation, to assess the mindset of his profession. He wasn't made to feel this way but on this day, today, it just simply didn't seem to stop.

Standing and brushing the tears to the side he took a step back as the staff processed the person no longer on this earth. Hands on his hips, looking up into the sky, he simply didn't want to continue. He could walk off, he could simply sit down, but that wouldn't do. That wouldn't be what he was. To the side of him, down the street, he heard shouts for help and, with barely a moment’s thought, he turned to walk. Stopping, he took one last look at the young person taken from the world before her time. He felt a small slice of anger rise within his chest, which tapped a thread of energy into his heart. When this day was over, when the dust settled, he’d make sure that his every second be spent trying to ensure that this situation never, ever happened again.

Walking away, he quickly changed his pace to a mild jog, conserving energy as he went. He knew that this would be a long day, a longer night, but he’d rest when he could no longer stand. He was alive, breathing, able to make a difference and that was exactly what he’d do.

In a perfect world… We’d all make a difference.

The Book - 2008 Version

Originally written around November 2008. Excuse the lack of punctuation, extra long sentences and mistakes. I'll be writing a new version tomorrow!  

With the gentle sparks making their crackling noise over in the background, she snuggled further into the soft armchair and sipped another sample of red rose wine, relaxed, slow music and all was well with the world. The day has been long, the week longer, but that was now a distant thunder in her sky. The weekend had started as soon as the keys had hit the table and, the door had been closed to the working life outside. It felt ever so good, right now, to just unwind and close her weary eyes a little bit. This, as they say, is what it was all for. At that thought, another popped into her mind, ‘is this what it was all for, truly, really? Or was there something more!’  There she went again, answering the world’s problems, or should she say, trying to answer the world’s problems.

The world, such a faraway place when in such a calm setting and the heat, yes, the heat, it was ever so dreamy right now. She once again looked into the flickering flames and a small smile appeared as if by magic and from behind, she heard a small thud. She moved up from the seat and looked over the top of her comfy chair to see a small parcel on the floor and someone must have just posted whatever it is. She looked at the mantelpiece clock and it really was an odd time to be posting mail through her door or any door.  She lifted herself from the chair and walked over to the parcel and then returned to her chair, slightly intrigued and interested in whatever was sure to be inside the package. With ease, she removed the string, gently unravelled the brown paper and her eyes focused onto a book. The first thing to strike her, other than it being a book, was the fact that the cover contained such detail, more detail than she had ever seen and yet, whatever was inscribed on the cover, she simply had no idea what it was. No picture, words or any art she had ever seen resembled this cover... whoever created this cover was truly an artist, or so she thought, as many may have disliked the cover.

She turned over the book to look at the back cover and the same artwork covered the rear and as she turned it back to the front, she opened the front cover to see a small amount of writing, which she read, “This book, the book of time and mystery, has been sent to you, as you have questions that need answers, dreams that are being dreamt and a heart that truly feels”.  As book openings went, She thought that the small passage she had just read was nice, cryptic, but nice. Most people did require answers, some did dream and in all honesty, she didn’t know any heart that didn’t feel but, who was she to argue with such text and of course, the person who had seen fit to post this book through her door. At that thought, she would like to know who ‘had’ posted the book.

She turned over the first page to see a blank page. She turned another page, blank, another, blank. She flicked to the middle of the book and that, also, was blank. At this she closed the book, “What is this about?” she said as she opened the book again, onto the first blank page. Right then, her eyes nearly fell from her face as words appeared on the page in front of her and she slowly read as they appeared, “This book is about answers, a place to truly find what you have been missing or even searching for, this book, this place, is where you truly connect to the magic out there!”  She closed the book and as her mouth dropped open, she asked another question before opening the book again, “Did you just answer me?”

“Yes, I answered you!”  She once again closed the book and in a moment’s reaction, placed the book on the fire. As the book crumpled and disappeared into flame, she felt an overwhelming urge to rescue the book and wondered why she had just place the book into the fire. As the last small piece vanished, she looked at the parcel paper to her side, on the floor and there... was the book. She looked back to the fire and then back to the book! “Oh my...”

With delicate pause, slowly, ever so slowly, She reached out and picked up the book from the floor and returned it to its resting place on her lap. Eyes, wide open, smile not quite knowing how to unravel the moments in front of her, she once again opened the book and read the words that, if by magic, appeared in front of her eyes, “Ahhhhhhooooowwww.. That hurt, nearly as much as the time when the old lady’s dog in Minnesota chewed me for FOUR hours!”  If she wasn’t in a small amount of shock, she might have laughed at that mild joke but instead, she simply asked, ‘What are you?’

“What am I? I am... an index to the answers you seek, I am the knowledge that remains when the magic has left your heart and time no longer recalls your kisses. I, am also, here, now, ready to answer some of your questions!” She could not believe that this was happening, a book, writing it’s own verse, right there, on the pages. She turned over the page as the words kept on appearing, “Of course, I am here for a special reason and, hopefully, we will reach that reason before the end of this book!” Her heart started to relax and a positive smile started to appear at the books friendly tone and if someone was playing a prank, then she might as well play along as, after all, it could be fun.

She bit her lip slightly as she asked another question, “Where did you come from?” The book, as if paused, maybe even thinking, placed a few dots onto the page and a few seconds flew past before the words started to appear again. “I arrived through your letterbox!” ‘Yep’, she thought, a slight joker of a book and she smirked a little as the words carried on appearing. “Oh sorry, you mean how did I arrive at an existence? That would be telling and as I’m in a telling moment, I’ll share. I arrived the moment paper first appeared many, many years ago. My spirit, soul, heart, feelings and thoughts found a place on that first page and since then, I have become the book that you now see. So, to answer the question, I came from the universe and am thus part of every single small thing that you see each and every single small day.”

If there were ever an answer to answer a question, she definitely knew that the answer on the page in front of her most certainly did just that, answered and then in a flash, she asked a very cheeky question, “What’s tomorrow’s lottery numbers?” The book again paused and if by a seconds imagination a small set of soft lips appeared on the page and smiled. “Come now, I am here to provide answers and what you need, not, unfortunately, what you want! The lottery numbers may make you smile and fill your life full of imaginable gifts, but it will not fill your soul!”  Defeated, she smiled and decided on a better choice of question, “Who will be the next person to ring my phone?” This was supposedly an easy one for the book, which answered more or less straight away by writing, ‘Your Mother, who will ring in 5,4,3,2...1’ and the next second after the book wrote ‘1’, the phone rang and She looked over to the phone and when she looked back, she watched as the book wrote another line, ‘But you won’t answer as she’ll complain that you only speak to her every other week and then ask about your weight, your love life and knitting!’. She was... amazed and at that moment, she realised, this was no prank.

She again watched as the book filled the page with a drawing of flowers within a field of green grass, with, a picture of her standing in the field, looking up at the sunshine filled sky. A beautiful picture, a wondrous picture with so much detail that she could more or less be there, right there, now, this time’s second.  A smile grew, a small tear appeared at the emotion of the moment and she again spoke, “Please, would you tell me a beautiful story?” The book drew a dog with a nodding head and as she turned the page, a story began before her eyes.

“The great unknown, was once, many, many thousands of years ago, known to nothing but angels. The unknown decided to grow, to create, to become more than what it once was and with that thought, the unknown became everything, planets, stars, the sun, moon, the oceans and of course, you and I.

Now, the unknown, which you may call God, Allah, energy, the source, the light or whatever, created life, abundant life, on a million, million worlds and one world was... this world. The unknown created a balance between all things, a unity, a way of keeping all things in its order and as time moved forward, man and woman became. The unknown realised that they would be slightly more than what he intended, savage, brutal, destructive and somewhat lost in the land that the unknown had created and thus the unknown decided to make a small change, but, like all changes, there would be balance, one side, the other side and of course, the ever present middle.

But, the unknown, following the way of the universe, decided to bestow the change to two angels.  Now, angels being light, they wished and wanted a pure way to implicate a change, a change that would enlighten, uplift, but the unknown still insisted on balance, for a change to be tainted if the moment was lost. As shameful as it seemed, all things, no matter how pure, how brave, had to have all sides present. The good, the middle and finally the bad.

The angels both looked to the earth and they flew down, amongst the clouds, taking in the land and its detail, watched the animals below and of course, took in the details of the brisk man and the fine woman. At once, suddenly, as if by magic and relief, the angels looked at each other... then kissed. The kiss lasted years as they simply expressed the purity of their intentions, the majestic colours of emotions and when they parted lips, they, had simply, created, what we call... love.

The gift was spread between man and animal and like a gentle breeze, the thought simply made its way into every single beating heart and has stayed there ever since. That, as difficult as it sounds, changed the motivation of every single living item across the universe and still, of course, kept the delicate balance between all things. In fact, it strengthened all.

This very happening, is why your heart beats faster, your heart beats slower and at times, seems to stop in the presence of the person that you love. It can last forever, it can last ten seconds, but overall, it will always be within your heart. ”

She felt her heart move ever so slightly and even though the story seemed like a wild fantasy, she knew that the message was completely, undeniably, true. She turned over another page and the book drew a few more beautiful flowers and this time, a couple of angels in a kiss that seemed to glow straight off of the page. “Is.. that a true story?” she asked.. The books words appeared,

“As I feel, you know that love must have arrived from a very enlightened place, so Angels seems to be the most magical of places. After all, when you kiss the person you love; do you not feel as if you have wings?  Now, if you will, would you turn the page and place your hand in the middle of the page...”

With an ever small hesitation, she lifted her right hand as her left held open the page, she gently placed her hand onto the page and for a moment nothing happened and then, the page traced a line around her hand.  Flowers appeared in each of the corners and stars in-between, the book really seemed to be placing her in a state of calm.

Seconds passed and then she felt something, just that little bit, at first, but the sensation seemed to be growing. Like soft fingers flowing up her hand, along her arm and into her body, it was as if energy were being moved. As the feeling grew within her, she could feel her heart beat slowing, even though her body raced a thousand times faster than it had ever done before, but the calm, it soothed her. Words appeared above her fingertips, “You can take away your hand now” and even though she could have left her hand there for eternity, she did as the book asked. With a smile that was deeper than an ocean, she turned over the page and spoke, “What.. just happened?”

The book answered a little bit quicker this time, “You, all of you, are now a small part of me and as a thank you, I gave back a small amount of energy that I felt you needed. We often run on low batteries and ever so often, we could benefit from a small kick” She laughed a little and agreed by nodding her head slightly. Ever so true, needed energy, something that she could often do with, especially in the mornings.  “My time is nearly over here but before I venture out to new places and people, we must talk about why I arrived here in the first place and now that I know every single moment that forms you, we can get to the place that we often need to be” She turned another page and her interest reached new levels. As far as she could tell, she was fine, but still, didn’t everyone need a little bit more or less of something?

“Within you, rests a soul, a vessel that contains the essence of who you are and this vessel, wishes to fly high between the clouds, to be as free as it can be, but life, the life that many lead, at times, pushes the soul further away from the heart. Or, in another way, the heart can be hurt and over the time that we walk, it hides away its true face, removing the freedom that we crave. In order to be free, to find a better place, we must all truly try to be more. Like a chair with three legs, you can stand perfectly well, you’ve found the extra third leg needed to be whole, but, four legs are what the angels planned when they bestowed their gift. To write with your heart, to sing with your passion, to be and explore everything you can be, you, everyone, requires four legs to balance. Four legs, become two people.”  She read the words and understood exactly what the book stated, but, these things were never as easy or as simple as finding the extra leg to her chair. “I understand what you are saying, I do, but in order to open my heart or my soul, there will always be that small amount of fear that constantly protects!” she added.

“Yes, you do have to protect, but would you hesitate one moment to see your dreams come true? But, dreams are created by magic and as the Unknown has shown, to create magic, you require energy and that energy, that life, best be created by two. You try, you fail, you try, you fail.. but you still have the energy and passion to try again. Why?  You try again because somewhere within you, you believe that, just for a second, things can be right, things can work. Love, as the angels knew, conquers all things, all doubts. “, the book replied. At this she knew that this applied to everything in her life. She had been ever slightly protective of her heart and that had led to some interesting dreams, some interesting creations and of course, some of the thoughts she had been having over the last few months.

She looked thoughtful as the information on the page settled into her mind and heart and yes, two people did make things happen, as could one, but something always drove people to find that partner, a partner that addressed the balance, a fourth leg that adds that clarity and of course, much needed kisses.  The book spoke of the angels love and that alone, truly, was such an amazing thought.

“Does love truly conquer all?” She asked as she turned another page.

“Yes, it does, but only a pure love that bypasses most or all of the day to day petty arguments, negative thoughts and moments that need not exist.  Two hearts beating in rhythm can sooth and comfort at a level that no mere playing can achieve. Just because you touch with your finger tips does not mean your heart should stay disconnected. Once a person engages their heart, the passion, fire, thought and pure force within that feeling can enable a person to accomplish tasks that should normally be out of reach. You see this within a Mothers eyes at times, the connection, the pure bond that nothing, absolutely nothing, can break. Love, truly, conquers all, but, can ever so easily be tainted.” As She read she could literally feel the warmth from the book on her lap. This book, with its magical pages, truly felt and obviously understood all that touched her heart. Amazing.

She held back for a second and then asked another question, “So how do we stop a pure love from being tainted?” Again she turned a page and waited.

“You will never reach a pure love if it has a chance to be tainted. People either work or fail over time. Ideals, dreams, rhythms all differ and although the excitement intoxicates when first experienced, the true reality of a person’s heart eventually shows its face. You have to first look ‘beyond’ a person’s mask, their many faces, to look under the skin, at the person’s core and then, only then, can you see and realise if you ever have a chance to survive. If two people do reach a pure love, they will be like two entwined trees with branches that interlock, which strengthen and embrace each other. If you try to dig them from the earth you may require a miracle, to separate the branches would need an act of angels.   Any relationship must hold onto the magic, two people must embrace each other’s hearts before they embrace each other’s body.   Sadly, the above is not the way of the world. Angels may have provided the gift of kisses that create love, but they also left in the balance... the chance... to fail.”  The last word rang in her eyes and she knew how that felt, to fail, to let go, to find something and have nothing.  This pure love, it seemed so difficult to imagine in the way things worked, as if luck and chance played a part but surely, there must be more?

As she turned another page, she noticed that it was the last page of the book and as she watched, the books final words play their letters, she knew this time was at an end“...and now, Miss She Turner, it is time for me to leave you to your fate, which would shortly show its hand. Now, if you would do me the honour of walking out of your door, up the stairs, out onto level 15, four doors to the left and then, push me through the letterbox.”  She smiled and yes, she had enjoyed this mad moment and although she still assumed that it was a game being played, she couldn’t help but know that the words spoken were very, very true. The message, as clear as it was, still contained such beauty and thought that she would smile for an age.

She stood, closed the book and gently kissed the cover. Ten minutes later, she returned to her chair to once again view the fire in front of her, to feel its warmth and as she drifted off to sleep, she recalled some of the beautiful moments from the book.  ‘Angels gifts’, ‘pure love’, the ‘fourth’ important ‘leg’ from her chair and or course, the beautiful drawings that the book presented. Her head slowly moved to the side and she closed her eyes, just a little bit, then completely.

As she started to dream, she awoke to a knock on the door and she looked at the clock above the fire. She had been asleep for an hour. She moved from the seat and in a moment was across the room to open the door and as it opened, she looked up to see a man standing there and while he spoke, he started to smile, “Hello, you might not believe me when I tell you this and many would think that I’m quite mad, but someone pushed a book through my door an hour ago and, well, I’ve just sent it to Mexico but before I did that, the book said that I should knock on this door as you need a chair fixing and, apparently, I can help with the fourth leg?  Not sure what that means but either way, I’ll help if I can”

As She looked down, she smiled and mumbled to herself, ‘Magic, angel’s gifts... they do exist’.

Life

I listen to the sound of the escaping wind, hurtling, enthralling, captivating my imagination and comprehension. The very last leaf, within my view starts to fall from the tree just across from me, escaping, leaving, transcending the moment into something new and fresh. It falls, whispering thoughts of sunshine, growth and the meaning of life.

The music blares from the headphones as I return them to my ears, breaking the aura of the surrounding landscape, the view before my eyes. I hum the tune, breaking the silence from my person, startling the small bunny frolicking over in the nearby field. Despite the loud music, the words, the calm moment cannot be taken away from my soul.

I smile, a little, eyes softening, realising that I’m safe, alive, healthy and happy. This, of course, for many of us is often not the case or hasn’t been this way for a long time. Closing my eyes, returning to a previous moment of pain, the teaching of the past, I recall the second, the words, the angst bestowed towards my life, then close the thought within my mind. It’s gone, it’s over, it has been done and I am now who I am. There is no recalling the moment, transcribing a different outcome or replacing certain words. Such is life. What has been will always be.

Despite my own teachings, the way I’ve always viewed life, there are moments, as well as people, that can trouble you, hurt you, make you into something that you’re not but, saying that, I know that we have overall control of our own actions so no blame, ever, can be placed upon another’s shoulders. I am. I will always be. I am master of my own decisions. The words from my lips are mine and mine alone. I… am to blame for whatever I say or do. No-one holds your hand, embraces your decisions with guidance, without your permission.

Each tree, within this world, is born innocent. It watches, learns how to grow, what to be, survives in the universe and passes away just the same. Each tree needs to be nurtured, guided just that little bit, but it really does know what to do. There comes a day where our hand leaves our guardians, we become alone in the world, yet unlike the tree we’ve no real plan or scale on how to grow tall into the sky. We might dream of touching clouds or branching to the moon, but we often fall when life becomes too complex. Weighted, drowned by rain fall, axed and fallen from our own decisions and other’s words. If we were but a tree, we would be fine, but we’re not and will never have a life so simple.

The leaf finally reaches the ground and, with instinct, I press pause. The audio stops, my hand lifts the camera and I take a picture. Frozen, a moment in time, the leaf fallen from the tree and the cycle has repeated for another year. We’re somewhat like the tree, stuck within cycles, repeating, reprocessing the same cycle, the never ending circular process. When do we escape our own mind? When do we grow, when do we heal, what should we do and where do we go?

Within each person, deep within, I truly believe that there’s a plan for each of us. You can speculate, procrastinate, but the plan is one of simplicity. Smile. Be. Accomplish. Do what you want to do and do it now. We were never meant to be that tree, the mighty stable life providing vessel, we’re supposed to re-define our needs and requirements above simple water and sunshine. We can be so much more.

I listen to the sound of the bellowing wind as I remove my headphones. I’m trying to become aware, aware of myself, to escape, to leave, to transcend into something new and fresh. I can fall, I can whisper thoughts of summer, of growth, the meaning of my life, but right now, right this very second, I’m free of thought and ready to be something new.

Fire

There is a fire within me. I can feel it, simmering, suffering, expecting to be set free but, instead, it is contained and controlled. We live our lives, placid, serene, trying to make it through the day let alone the entire week. We’re no longer feral, not really free, as we’re contained and socially castrated by the media, people and friends around us.

There are moments where, when I'm supposedly caught off guard, the fire appears and burns bright. I've passion, a wealth of feeling, an emotion so strong that the heat can easily be felt but, as above, it’s castrated at the source. We, as people, make choices. We can feel, we can truly reach out a hand to embrace the people around us but, instead, we often hold onto our wishes. At other times we let the fire breath forward into the world with agony, tears, grasping for something else. We’re often not quite sure as to what we want, how to feel, let alone the way to express such moments.

I can feel the fire, bubbling within, taunting, thrashing around like a petulant child, asking for the same thing over and over again. But, instead of answering, I simply remain static and calm. A lifetime spent controlling emotion is one thing, denying your feelings is another, while ignoring your own soul is beyond idiocy.

I often feel the fire when engaging in conversation, embracing my feelings in order to convey a situation, a place, a person or feeling. Within a second I can feel happiness, great sadness, joy or even loss. It’s wondrous to be able to do such a thing but, again, that is mere folly compared to what’s really inside each of us. We can burn with such thoughts within our mind. We can light the room with our energy, the very aura of our lives, basking in the gracious moment of fire.

When your chest glows, when you truly feel the connection within your chest, be it to your heart, soul, or from a practical viewpoint, the very organs within you, you know that there’s a world of amazement out there. I choose to embrace my fire by writing. Seldom do people ask for my thoughts on matters unlike the years previous thus, as stated, my only voice is the voice of the written word. This allows a conduit, a passage, towards the fire within.

We, as people, must embrace our fire or die slowly. We work, we slave, we devour the hours towards our passing, from this world, with barely a flicker from our spark. Whom is to say that we should not engulf ourselves in our passions? Embrace, grasp, quench and let the fire flow through our veins like we’re the very source of power on this planet. Achieve, conquer, comprise our very path through this world. There may only be one person stopping the fire from within and you see that person each time you close your eyes. You’re there, within the darkness, fighting to endure your life, no matter if you’re happy, sad, lost or alone, life is still a fight. Grasp the fire, feel the emotion and strength push you forward.

We all have wishes, various plans, places to be, races to run, desires to be acknowledged and accomplished. Clench your fist, close your eyes, open the gates and feel… . You and you alone must succeed. Create the plan, see the endpoint, seize the objective and run. It might take years, a day, a moment of your time but once you know that you have that fire, you can become what you need to become. Even if, for the smallest of moments, you fail, the attempt is more than worth the thought of never having done what you really wanted to do. Failure is doing nothing. Failure is never an option as the attempt is a success no matter the outcome.

Light that fire within you, become more, feel the energy and increase the warmth around you.

Feed

Walking amongst the crowds, watching, viewing, taking in everything around me including the sounds and smells from the people. Almost mimicking slow motion, the way people move, to my senses. Some outspoken, most minding their own business, but all gasping for breath as their emotions leak into the world like a lethal cocktail of pestilence.

I can taste it, taste their fears, their longing, for something else or to even be someone else. The negativity, the jealously, the very fear from their pours creates a stench of unmitigated wealth. I don’t mean to feed, to feast upon such energy, but I was truly created this way. Coughing, spluttering, gouging upon each other, viewing other people with disdain and hatred that seemingly feeds one such as myself. I'm not of this earth, an unknown in the scheme of plans, an unseen entity, wishing for more of this uneven stance.

I hear the media, the television, the marketing people of this world, rile people, force them into segregated brackets, ensuring a divide exists within and without. I take another look as one of them walks past, unknowingly tainting the air as I inhale the feelings. It feels hatred, angst, as the images flood through his electrical energy. His friend, possibly a Brother, has what he desires and that alone, something so simple, creates a pointless release of energy. Another one of them walks through me as I envelop what’s within. An uncle abusing him, from a youngster, until this very day, the fear and shame washing over me, feeding me in its purest form.

Satisfied, needs sedated, thirst quenched, I float above them, watching all of the different colours of energy flow through the street. They’re all lost, alone, mostly ignorant to the control over them, how lost they all are, with a few aware of their shape and form. I catch a glance from the shadows, eyes directed towards mine and a feeling escapes from within my own form. None of this world has ever seen me, noticed me, yet there are a few that can see through different eyes. I'm not worried as none can touch my form unless I desire.

Across from me, another of my form feeds, relishes the bathing emotions, the disquiet of this world and suffering of the many. Hurdled like cattle, pretending to be free from oppression, all the while willingly sacrificing themselves to the daily monotony of money. All of them could be happy, all of them could be satisfied, if it were not for the many needs instilled within from an early age. But, of course, that would not do as my form has no need for those positive traits. We desire pain. Suffering. Anger. Raw negative feelings, a hunger, distilled into a pure form of energy.  The heat expelled from these creatures fuels our fire. Drives us, compels us, yet we lift not a finger to aid in this flow.

In past lives we've aided with the neat destruction of society, kindled the very fire of destruction to feed our coffers, stroked the human ego to drive itself towards oblivion. Now, in this time, we lead a passive life, no longer required to steer anyone anywhere. A paradise of greed, corruption, fear, famine and fate. The glorious symphony of anguish bestowed to the many.

This truly is a glorious planet and we will never leave. After all, why would we, we’re perfectly satisfied with the misery fed to us each and every single day.

The Leviathans: Aura (Book 2 - A possible look from the other side). Might even get to write that story one day.

Time

It’s been 10 days. It’s been 9 hours, possibly 10 minutes, as well as 14 seconds. I'm not clock watching, I'm not waiting or missing the time, as I'm instead wishing for something else. I've written many words, paraphrased the numerous descriptive passages, defined, declined, ignored many aspects and basically waited until this very moment. Procrastination, the sin of the many, the very soul of a few, the beginning or even the end of things to come.

I've stopped doing what I love, the ideal scenario, the light to my very fire. Although I still feel the words, still connect to the meaning of the letters, I've stopped and it’s hurting. The very idea of your existence, to deny such a thing, is beyond my compassion yet I'm still looking at the seconds. Stand, sit down, walk a distance, crawl a mile, it’s all the same.

My mind screams, at times, as I deny what I must and should undertake. Why do I resist the conclusive words of my life? We've, from our very start, been taught such an existence but that’s hardly an excuse.  Be, or simply do not, there is no other ending. Accomplish your dreams or languish in your own denial. Which? Make a choice, decide, but making such a decision means an active conclusion yet, instead, we often just… exist.

When you fall, when you drift, into your night time slumber, do you dream of another place filled with other faces? Do you even dream or is the person within, dying, suffocating, unable to realise that we can be free within this world and the next? We often talk about the next life, the life after our eyes finally close but, being honest, what if, even for a second, this is the only chance we’ll ever have! We can have all of the alternative stories played within our dreams, when we sleep, the great never ending practise of life, but each morning, without fail, the real test is here right before our eyes.

I no longer wish to scream, to just exist, as I’d prefer to be. Something, someone, to prove a point to myself, to scream even though I know that I’ll probably be the only person to listen but, no matter how loud, that’s perfectly fine with me. I do not seek confirmation, praise from others, but I do, I truly do, only wish to bring a smile to another person’s lips. Starting at a designated time, which is not at this very second, I will set a task, a conclusion, an ending to what I seek. Then I must set another ending, then another, then another until I have found something inside that can finally rest.

We all have fire, burning, simpering, a flame flickering deep within our souls wanting and wishing to rise through our very spirit. It cannot be stopped once the adrenaline starts, the target, the scope of what could be, yet we listen to so many other people, we allow ourselves to be defined and that, alone, dulls any fire that could possibly ever be. Strife, struggle, makes you more. Being a clone, being objectified, makes you absolutely nothing.

It’s been 10 days. It’s been 9 hours, possibly 14 minutes, as well as 34 seconds. I am clock watching, I'm checking the time, realising that the next second could be my very last on this world. I'm not a betting man, a causal believer, so I'm not going to trust the second chances transcribed within books that hold no meaning to my soul. I must act. Now. Achieve. Right now. In the next 10 seconds, or maybe even 14, I can set a task, then work. It’s as easy as time.

Me

I hear the words, vicious, undeniably cruel, maybe even evil, but sure of intention. The scolding words form sentences, designed, created with such clarity that if the devil were a poet his voice would be the voice I currently hear. I know that I'm less than perfect, as perfection is something that may not even exist, but these moments need not appear.

I wouldn't call this person, the speaker of less than soothing words, a friend, an enemy, an acquaintance, as there’s more to it than that, but if I could, if I even should, I’d silence the voice for good. Whispers, misdemeanours, the cause of consequences, the words still keep on appearing.

My fate, resting in my own hands, seldom defined but often regretted, forms the shape that ultimately creates my heart. I've stated, beforehand, that I'm less than perfect, but I do try. I often define a better outcome, see the sunshine for what it’s worth, but when I realise that I'm being judged it adds weight to my life.

People can be cruel, people can be outright dangerous, to each other and themselves, but none more than your own inner-voice. We scold, we taunt, we seldom survive such personal onslaughts. We know the buttons to press and the ropes to pull. Castrate your own voice. Silence the wealth of health that can save. Rest into the cushions that provide security, safety, away from actually being more than we really should be.

A safety net, the supposed caring caressing voice that defines us, keeps us safe, also never lets us reach any kind of height. To be free, to overcome, to fly into the bright blue sky, requires a monumental moment of clarity. Of silence. Freedom of choice. The removal of the ever nagging, petulant, cruel voice that hinders all progression.

I no longer wish to hear the voice, the stupidly obnoxious, obscenely vacuous, never ending voice that goads and scolds like a wicked step Mother.  I'm free, always, right now, forever and a day.

Photocopy - Part 2

Part 1

Tapping the pen against the table, she suddenly realised that she’d drifted into a daze. The pen stopped and as she placed it to her side, she glanced at the computer screen, taking in the various notifications, only to see no update that warranted her attention. Looking up and over the screen, across the room, she noticed the time then quickly returned her gaze to the bottom right to where the computer also displayed the time. She had no real idea as to why she did that but, as usual, it’s what she’d always done.

Leaning back into her chair she placed her hands onto her legs and, with her fingers, gently moved across her skin checking to make sure that she’d thoroughly shaved them. Smooth, fresh, moisturised legs. A small smile arose as she checked her dress. White, not that conservative, but not too short, just right in her opinion. It was, after all, one of her favourite items from the selection at home. This, as she knew, was found at the back of her wardrobe, wrapped up, for special occasions.

Looking again, at the clock, a few more minutes had managed to move forward. The wait seemed horrendous. Annoying. She didn't like to wait and, what made matters worse, people seemed to be constantly coming and going. Each time the door opened her heart would pulse, rise within her chest, spiking her stomach into fits of butterflies. “Damn butterflies”, she said to no-one in particular.

She started to reminisce about the past few weeks, especially the few days that he was there, which didn't calm her heart. It was a normal day, like the usual days in this building, with nothing really happening. Contractors were due to start, one in her section, but she still didn't know why exactly. From nowhere he was standing in front of her desk and, as she looked up, his initial greeting was simply lost as the truly wondrous scent escaped from his body. She’d quickly brushed aside her olfactory pleasure as she rose from her seat, shaking his hand, only to stay standing which is something that she simply did not do. Within a few seconds she’d accustomed herself to his smooth voice, the crazy masculine face, his flamboyant hair and clean attire. What she couldn't accustom herself to, which also seemed to instantly attack her poise, was the very fact that his eyes seemed to be enticing her in some fashion.

They’d chatted, the usual small talk, small laughs, casual movements, to which she caught herself mirroring his gestures and, from nowhere she reached out her hand and touched his arm. Her pulse must have rose at that point. She had gathered her composure but, as his eyes quickly darted from her eyes, to her lips, something inside of her simply felt alive. As soon as he had appeared he vanished again, somewhere into the building and, being honest to herself, she had to find out where.

As she returned to the present the door across the room opened and, as her heart jumped into her mouth, she caught sight of him. His name was James and, for the life of it all, she’d not managed to find someone that knew his second name. She had no social media information to fill in the blanks. She watched as he vanished into the photocopying room. Standing, composing her thoughts, clearing her throat, she pushed back her chair and started to walk along the desks, to the walkways around the side of the room. She knew that they all knew. She could literally feel their eyes latch onto her as she walked. Office chat and gossip would always be a ‘thing’, but she was supposed to be above all of this. ‘To hell with that’, she thought, as the door loomed ever closer.

Gently opening the door, the room appeared into her view, cabinets to the left and right side, photocopier straight in front of her, with the 2^nd floor window filling the room with light. There he was, James, in all his glory. The door closed behind her and she stepped forward a few paces, stepped slightly to her left and picked up a few bits of paper. She didn't want to seem like she was there for anything other than work but, of course, what she was wearing was ever so slightly obvious.

James turned his head, catching her in the corner of his eye and, as he turned, said hello with the biggest smile he could muster. She felt his eyes instantly take her into his mind. Eyes quickly moving from top to bottom, back to her ever so slightly presented chest, back to her eyes. Men were always predictable but, no matter the predictability, when you wanted someone they could be as predictable as they liked. “You look absolutely amazing today!” he stated with a near absolute certainty. He stepped forward, wearing his usual clean, crisp, white tailored shirt, unlike the usual men within the building. She didn't have to make it obvious as, over a lifetime of experience, she could take in a man’s posture, clothing, personality and experience within the blink of a casual eye. James, however, did seem to be somewhat of an oxymoron.  He seemed to hold an air of extreme confidence yet his eyes betrayed his kindness.

A week ago she’d accidentally dropped a cup and, as he caught it, his other hand had grasped her arm. She could feel the grip strength yet he was still so very gentle. Pushing the thoughts aside, she replied with a naughty grin,

“Careful now, I might have to report you to H.R. for inappropriate behaviour!” James, leaning forward a few inches, lowered his head, keeping his gaze firmly locked to hers,

“Shall I inform them of the text message you sent last night?” She placed her hands behind her back and, looking innocent, pursed her lips and slowly shook her head side to side.

James, setting aside the paperwork from his hand, stepped forward with another small step, “How about I tell them about the things that we’re going to do together!  Shall I inform them of the manner in which you’d like to conduct… business?” She, again, shook her head. This time, stepping forward and, leaning over to his right side, she whispered,

“Instead of informing Human Resources of certain indiscretions, maybe, you should just do the things that you've promised! After all you can only keep a lady waiting for so long!” She moved her lips away from his ear and, as he closed the gap between them, placing his lips a few centimetres from hers, he slowly started to move down and, once his hands reached just below her dress, slowly ran his fingertips up her legs until he reached her lingerie.

She could feel her nerve start to fluctuate, her breathing deepen, mind hurtling random thoughts that all equated to absolutely nothing, as he looked up at her.  Moving a finger, on each hand, around the strap, he pulled downwards. As he reached the ground, she stepped aside and, she watched as he reached across to an envelope box, removing one and placing her lingerie into the envelope. As he licked the envelopes seal, while closing the envelope, she could feel her heart pounding hard, she caught her fingertips shaking and, she could swear that the heating had been dialled forward.

Placing the envelope to the side, James took her hand, walked her over to the copier, lifted her up and back down onto the glass. She couldn't believe that this was happening, let alone the fact that she let it happen, but life had been so very boring right up until this point in time. Their eyes simply could not look elsewhere. She watched as he reached for the green button, his stoic smile never changing, taking in her view. The copier spew forward one copy and, as he lifted her from the screen, he reached over, grabbed the page, folded it twice and placed it into his pocket.

As she tried to calm her current state James placed his arm around her, hand holding her head, lifting her up and back onto a cabinet. He kissed her, a deep intense kiss, filled with lust, desire, dirty meanderings and with a tongue finding a rhythm with no remorse. Then, as quickly as he’d kissed her, he lowered her the few inches to the ground and stepped back. Pausing for a second, looking at her, chest expanding with her deep breaths, he smiled and finally broke the silence, “I've taken a copy of the place where I’m most needed!  I’ll be back next Tuesday. Dinner after work, a date, appetisers, then I’m going to have you as the main course.”

James reached over for the envelope, collected another envelope and then walked out of the room. She leant against the cabinet, lipstick ever so slightly crooked, nerves lashing her insides, adrenaline screaming for more, pulse fluctuating and lips feeling alive. She couldn't believe that he was gone, that he’d just done what he’d done, yet she felt glorious. 

James reached the bottom of the stairwell, opened the envelope, transferred the contents to the other envelope while removing the photocopy from his pocket, also placing it within the envelope and then he sealed it.  Walking towards the post room he pressed the power button on his phone, synced his e-mail, then, as he neared the room, caught site of one of the workers, “Hi Michael, could you please pass this to the Head of section B please?” The guy nodded as James passed over the envelope. The phone updated, as he walked and, flicking through the messages, one caught his eye… ‘James: Monaco, 27^th, two days, 6pm, Royal Riviera Hotel’.  Smiling, wondering how he managed to get into this line of work, he knew that he, at last, despite the money being afforded to him, had a place in life.

Part 3: Soon.

‘The teaching of James’ - (I have a plan for an entire series. One day...)

Thinking...

I've been thinking, only a little, maybe a lot, but those thoughts were all about… you. Okay, fine, my thoughts are my own, but at times I do like to share. Let me first apologise if my thoughts are unrequited. Let me state that I would never approach without poise, reflection, calm, with the respect intended and deserved. I'm, in a way, a thoughtful kind of person. Words do not fall without the meaning and meanderings behind them.

I've been thinking, a lot, but for only a little time, about you and how you are. Frankly, to be blunt, to maybe even be a little salacious, I find you so unbelievably attractive that I find that my mind wanders to you. I can be shopping, browsing the selections of produce, then I’ll arrive to your lips. It’s almost a certainty. Driving, walking, roaming the corridors, it all arrives back to you. I often admonish myself, annoyed at my actions and intended intentions.

I've been thinking, constantly, at times, of the things that we could do. I again apologise, taking a step back, suddenly realising that honesty is often not the best course of action in these cases. I know that we've flirted, I know that we've expressed the kind of looks that have tell tail intentions, but even though we can both see, maybe, we should stay blind. The fiery temptation of a quick stare, a mild raised grin, a glance into your eyes that scream intentional circumstances, it’s all there for the taking and delight. A person should never overstep their desires until the path is made clear. It’s obvious, safe, a way to remain poised.

I've been thinking, never endingly, at points, of where we will be in the future. Crazy dreams, momentary thoughts, flashes of satisfaction, indulgence, wanton wishes and flights of fancy. Clear shores of faraway adventures filled with wine, dine, holding hands and more. I’d, of course, prefer to remain grounded. It’s the type of person I am but, in all honesty, something about you makes something within me want to go crazy.

I've been thinking, all the time, for a few seconds, of why I feel this way. Something about you reaches over, finds a way, to connect to me. I'm not sure if it’s my soul, aura, mind body or other, but it’s there. Whenever you walk into the room, the walls brighten, the music stops, my heart races a little bit and my smile widens. I'm not crazy. Maybe a little. I've noticed that you’re smiling and, thankfully, maybe, you feel the same way too.

I've been thinking, right now, the next second, that we should just do it. Go crazy. Let’s get out of here, to somewhere else, who cares where as long as we’re there. Let’s hold hands, let’s skip, dance in public, take pictures in that photo booth, eat ice-cream, talk of tales gone by and maybe, just maybe, kiss a little. Throw caution to the wind, express delight, let feelings flow and embrace this moment.

I've been thinking… .

Lies

I've been told, informed, spoken to, of certain aspects spoken of, with regards to being whatever you want to be. You can be this, you can be that, but above all, you’re free to achieve whatever you like. Sure, of course, the ideals of many form the thoughts of more than a few but, when this is said and often done, the realisation of reality steps in.

You’re original, one of a kind, but stand over there in a line, the never ending standstill of life. Again, let’s repeat what’s been said. You can be, you might just be, whatever you would like to be. But, life, every breath, can seem like a fight. If you break, do you believe that your aid will find you in time? We’re restricted, confined, constrained, strangled and put into place.

Each day, via media, be it the internet, television, music, the newspaper or even friends, we’re informed on how to live our lives. It sounds silly, even a bit odd, but using a spoon instead of a fork can be looked upon with such odd scorn that it’s eye opening. Heaven forbid that we eat food that’s not meant to be eaten early in the morning. We’re constrained, our ideals formed, castrated from birth to conform. Stay in line, don’t dare to think thoughts that are against the established.

With one foot on the ground, resting on one knee, I'm pushing forward, to stand as the person that I want to be. I do not want to be told how to act, to be, thus I ignore the established regime. We’re so caught with distracting ideals that we’re missing what’s really happening. Each day we’re being lied to, from nearly every single angle of our lives.

The established, the existing, for me, just isn't working. We’re tainted from youth, taught the same ideals that instil illness from within. Colour lines, map lines, divisions, segregation, it’s all still here. We’re a global people, humanity made real, existing and all together but kept so far apart with ease.

We strive to be different, to be that special people or person that we've been told about from birth. We can achieve, we can be that star let alone fly high into the moonlight, we exist to become more.  It’s not real. We’re either all special, all worthwhile, all able to achieve, or we’re all no better than each other. We’re insects following the defined lines of a lie, constrained, or we’re truly individuals that can shine once the covers have been removed from our very own eyes.

I'm alive, intend to stay that way, in body, mind and soul. You can see the people, the suffering few, with their light dimmed from the corner of their eyes. It’s tragic, it’s truly sad, that so many may never experience the freedom of life. We live in bricked boxes and have iron bars around our own souls.

For each of us, every single individual, I wish for freedom, to truly escape the day to day, but it’s defined. Your child will form their own idealistic integrity, their own thoughts, yet the chances are that they’ll just become another clone. Do we want that? Do we not wish for more? We’ve probably, in this point in our lives, failed, yet each new generation learns racism, sexism, intolerance, illiteracy and blind beliefs. It still exists. It’s all still there and that, alone, baffles me more than many other aspects of life.

I've been told, informed, spoken to, of certain aspects spoken of, with regards to being whatever you want to be. You can be this, you can be that, but above all, you’re free to achieve whatever you like. Sure, of course, the ideals of many form the thoughts of more than a few but, when this is said and often done, the realisation of reality steps in. The reality is that we’re set to extend the sins of our past onto the platform that creates the future.

These thoughts are, above all, truly sad.