#491

i'm not afraid to say that i feel lost; that i'm in a place that i don't really understand, a road that feels completely unfamiliar with landmarks that mean nothing.

i'm not afraid to say that what i have questions, but no answers, there's mud on my shoes, and mud on my clothes, and mud on my face and mud in my hair, and under the nails on every finger of my hands.

i'm not afraid to stand at crossroads, and i' not afraid of moving - to stand still is to die.

i'm not afraid to tell you exactly how i feel - indeed, that is the point. i need you to listen, and to tell me how you see it. i need you to help me figure this out, because i am afraid that time is too precious to waste,

"nothing"

why should "nothing" mean so much? how could it weigh the world, and yet be "nothing?" could it truly be "nothing" if it runs so deeply that it drowns peace, sanity, commonsense and firm convictions?

"nothing" should be just nothing. it shouldn't keep sleep from tired eyes. its hard to accept that it was "nothing". it confuses me. it makes me want to run one minute. the next moment i want to stand still and never take another step.

your "nothing" is part of my everything.

This I crazy. I desperately want to know, yet I know that I should not want to know. How do the moments go; do the hours drag their way through the present, or do they skip through on their way to Memory's Houses? Is it easy; and if so, does it get easier with the passage of these same hours?

The days go by, Time refuses to take note of unspoken desires. Pause! Wait! Tarry a while! The sweet numbness slowly fades away, and its becoming undeniable, that the moments come when reality must be confronted in its starkness. I want to know how this story ends, so I can prepare myself for the outcome. Shall I gather my robes and make ready for feasting; shall the fall of the curtains reveal a new dance?

There's so much about this time and these events that I want to know, but who would I ask? Who would tell the wanderer that he has lost hisnway? The wilderness is bare, and there are no landmarks to speak of. Who would tell me what I so hungrily want to know?

i sometimes wish that i could turn back the hands of time - don't we all?

this is one of those times when i desperately wish that i had the power to go back and change things. there are things that i would do over, because even when you start again from the present, sometimes you may find it hard to get past what went before.

#479

There was the one thing
In the end it was that which settled
That endless moment.
It was one thing,
But it was everything
You said that it, “meant nothing”
But how could you know?
In the end it was a yoke
That weighed as heavy
As the entire world
It was almost everything, this nothing.

All the things I said
I meant
Every promise
Every word
Proclaimed from my heart
Spoken with conviction
Sealed with every earnest
And unwavering purpose
Encapsulated in my soul.

It was all I could give
It was all of my being
My everything
It was offered too late
- the whole regrets -
Everything was already gone
It weighed less than the one thing

All the other things were important
All the other things were not
All the other things fell to earth
And like raindrops, they disappeared
Into nothing

One thing remained
That would not go away
It was the anchor that prevented flight
The reality that crushed the dream
Every single time the eyes opened.
All the other things were important
All the other things were nothing
Whenever I looked at you closely
It was clear
You were everything
You were the earth that drank up the rain
You made all the other things disappear.

One thing would not go into the drains
It remained present,
resolute,
like the flood on the greens
After the earth had drank its fill.
One thing refuses to go away.
Still.
One Thing.
One. Thing.

194218062011

you really shouldn't come between sleep and me - it shouldn't really happen this way. not yet again.

it was "a thing"
it was one thing
it was nothing
it was more than all the little, "somethings"
it should have been no thing
it was everything

011022062011

In the end it all burned down to one thing, the one that turned out to be, too burdensome for my being to bear. All of the questions considered; the sum of all the things that unsettled ease - it all came back to the one thing which was neither wrong nor an error - just a thing. It weighed too much in the end, itstill slows my steps as I try to find a path to peace. I wish you could understand.

#476

there are things i would say to you, if i had a right to speak; things that i would ask you, but what would be the point?

you ask me why i stay awake at night, but i cannot say. the things that trouble me run deeper than i ever want to bother you with - what would be the point?

if we look to the heart of this thing, we would find that the weight on my shoulders was placed there by the errors of my own humanity. i could pretend that this was not the case, but what would be the point?

we could second-guess yesterday and say, that if my choices had been this, or that, instead of the paths that i chose, perhaps things would be different. we could live in the past, but would there be a point?

we could give free rein to passion, and let anger rule the moment. if i let this go for a second, you might get to feel some of my pain. but i am certain as night is not day, that the things i would say would only cause you hurt, and so what would be the point?

this one thing is the undoing of all the strength and resolve that i possess. you say that i should let go and just sing the songs from my heart. but wise men say there's wisdom in holding your peace, even when the pressure within makes you desperate to seek the sweet relief that exists in letting it all out. we are slaves to commonsense; we are the pawns of peace. i could pretend that i don't care that my words would make you cry; but tell me, what would be the point?

if i had the right to speak, i would tell you that my dreams are haunted by thoughts that i could never share with you. my words would burn you, and it would be grossly unfair. the point is that i love you too much to ever hurt you like that.

014510062011