Hold my hand...

I hated feeling so exposed, so vulnerable, so weak. I used to take pride in being above the minuscule addictions and pitfalls of my peers, but as it seems, it is quite easy to become that which you always swore you wouldn't. I poured my heart out, and even as I barely kept up with reality, I knew that I was in the middle of one of those moments that define your life. That reshape your experience, and mould it into something different. Maybe greater, maybe lesser, yet surely more profound. I was glad you were with me, that you were both with me, though I'd be lying if I said I don't feel anxious and uneasy. I ponder if and how these events will alter my trajectory, and our bond as a whole. Am I still me? Are you still you? Perhaps we are something else entirely - an entity sown together by the sum of our parts - interwoven for eternity, intertwined by design.

Take my sins and wash them away...

As all things, even I have no choice but to move forward. Despite knowing that the future holds no redemption, and that I will surely have to accept defeat, I march ahead - as stubbornly and lightly as ever. Life tests us all, in my case things just seem to bundle up and hit me as an asteroid, not as lonesome rocks. Fight or flight, fail or fall, I shall not falter. The smile on my face will not wither, my eyes will not cry, my mouth shall not tremble, and my soul shall not die. I will crumble, then I will move on. As simple and as easy as that.

That was the only time, as he stood there, looking at that strange rubbish, feeling the wind coming across those empty fields, that he started to imagine a world where you still existed, because this was where it all started after all. He was thinking about the trash and rubble, the flapping plastic in the branches, the shore-line of odd stuff caught along the fencing, and he half-closed his eyes and imagined this was the spot where everything he'd ever lost since his childhood had washed up, and he was now standing here in front of it, and if he waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until he'd see it was you, and he'd wave, maybe even call. The fantasy never got beyond that - he didn't let it - and though tears rolled down his face, he wasn't sobbing or out of control. He just waited a bit, then turned back to the car, to drive off to wherever it was he was supposed to be.

The winds are breathing low...

I arise from dreams of thee...

Oh, lift me from the grass! 

I die, I faint, I fail! 

Let thy love in kisses rain,

on my lips and eye-lids pale; 

My cheek is cold and white, alas, 

my heart beats loud and fast. 

Oh press it close to thine again, 

where it will break at last.

We keep this love in a photograph...

I know I said I could handle it, that it wasn't a big deal, and that I am mature enough to accept that sometimes things cannot be as I wish, yet I find myself in an agonizing state of discontent. It's far too simple to say that I miss you, because I feel the problem lies deeper. I think I still have a lot of growing to do, to learn to embrace the love I have been given, and not spoil it by demanding a different incarnation. I know that what we have is real or least I am certain that my emotions are more raw than I ever thought possible, but what if that isn't enough? What if time and circumstance tear us apart? What if I won't be able to withstand the pressure? I'm scared of what I might be capable of doing. The lengths I'd go to preserve an idea that I'm not even sure how was formed. I guess what I'm trying to say, in my dramatic and overzealous way, is that I love you. I really do, and I promise I will try my best to not run away - to stay against all odds, to stay against my every fear.

Easier said than done...

Inside the pocket of my ripped jeans...

I am in a deadlock. How can I shake my bad habits if I keep getting pulled into scenarios that make it near impossible? Maybe that's the test. Overcoming hardship without aid when it seems the most improbable thing to do. I feel weak and insecure, and as I approach the last stretch of this climb, I can't help but wonder if the view will be worth it. Were my sacrifices justified? Was I right to uproot my entire life for a dream no one else could see but me? Did the journey make me a better person? A better friend? A better partner? A better son? If you would gaze upon me, would you see someone you could look up to, admire and adore? Am I the boy who got away or the man who couldn't make you stay? Without real answers I sit and ponder and as always and forever write words written so I may perhaps find meaning in the meaningless. Is that still all right with you?

Until death do us part...

Only words bleed...

We keep this love in a photograph,

we made these memories for ourselves,

where our eyes are never closing.

Hearts are never broken,

and times are forever frozen still.

So you can keep me

inside the pocket

of your ripped jeans.

Holding me closer

until our eyes meet.

You won't ever be alone,

wait for me to come home.

It can get hard sometimes...

Life comes at you when you are least prepared. It cradles you, then shakes you until you scream uncle. It is fruitless to try and change circumstances that have already taken hold, yet what I've learned is that while I have no affect on what has already transpired, I can surely impact my reaction to it - if I succumb to my lesser instincts and addictions or if I try to transcend the minuscule and irreparable with grace and that little bit of dignity that I still hold in my grasp. This moment shall pass as all those before have passed, and I will not let my resolve falter. I have failed and I will fail again, but as long as I can look into your eyes, and caress your face as you sleep, I have this sneaking suspicion that I'll be just all right.

We must allow ourselves to think, we must dare to think, even though we might fail, and stumble, and fall. It is in the nature of things that they go about their own way, resulting in our inability to tame them, because we suddenly find it impossible to order our thoughts, for the process of thinking requires us to consider every single thought there is, that might have been, that might one day be. Fundamentally we have always failed, like all the others, whoever they were, even the greatest minds. At some point, they suddenly failed and their system collapsed, as is proved by their writings, which we admire because they venture farthest into failure. To think is to fail, he thought, and a smile drew upon his face, knowing that the best has yet to come.

There's time on my side...

What is love if it's not guaranteed?

Let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. Because only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

My freedom in the ugly truth...

When you're missing a piece of yourself, aching, gut wrenching emptiness begins to take over. Until you find the link that completes your very soul, the feeling will never go away. Most people find a way to fill this void, material possessions, a string of relationships, affairs, food. I bear my soul, with words, for all to see. One glance at it and you can hear my voice, even when I shall be dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, our voices shall carry our thoughts, speaking clearly and silently, inside the heads of those who shall come after us. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people, citizens of distant epochs, who never knew one another. Books break the shackles of time - proof that we can work magic. We can work magic indeed.

Let your tears fall...

Save my soul...

I've been swimming in the ocean,

till I'm almost drowned.

Give me something I can believe in,

teach me how to pray.

And we can do drugs,

and we can smoke weed,

and we can drink whiskey.

Yeah we can get high,

and we can get stoned,

and we can sniff glue,

and we can do E,

and we can drop acid.

Forever been lost with no way home.

I've gone astray...

 

Teach me how to pray...

We'd start slow, the way we always did, because the run, and the game, could go on for awhile. Maybe even forever. That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about. It was twenty minutes, or a hundred years, or just this instant, or any instant I wished would last and last. But there was only one truth about forever that really mattered, and that was this: it was happening. Right then, as I ran with you into that bright sun, and every moment afterwards. Look, there. Now. Now. Now.

We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honour the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection. Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves. Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed and rare.