It's all part of the plan...

See me soar...

Sometimes I feel like if you just watch things, just sit still and let the world exist in front of you - sometimes I swear that just for a second time freezes and the world pauses in its tilt. Just for a second. And if you somehow find a way to live in that second, then you would live forever.
Because to tell you the truth, the thing I'm most afraid of ... is time. I mean, I'm afraid of not having enough of it. Not enough time to understand people, how they really are, or to be understood myself. I'm afraid of the quick judgements or mistakes everybody makes. Those you can't fix. I guess I'm afraid of seeing snapshots, not movies. Of watching and not seeing. Of time passing through me, instead of me passing through time.

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something. So that's my wish for you, and all of us. Lets make new mistakes - glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life. Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.

Hard time forgiving, even harder forgetting...

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. So as I start to embrace the new love and lust that I have somehow stumbled upon, I naturally digress back to the one that was taken from me before. It staring me in the face on a daily basis, also perhaps helps manifest feelings of melancholy, reminding me that despite what was lost, there was so much gained because of the bond we once shared. Some things are eternal, and that doesn't mean there isn't room for something else, something new, something that has yet to flourish its purest form. Something exciting. Something that despite all odds, takes your breath away. And that something ... is you.

Broke to what became...

Took me for granted, 

but call it love if you will.

I'm aware of this,

I did let you in.

Sink for you to swim,

dancing on the ledge,

tried to make you stay,

I did let you win.

Run them down...

The fireworks went on for nearly half an hour, great pulsing strobes, fiery dandelions and starbursts of light brightening both sky and water. It was hard to tell which was reality and which was reflection, as if there were two displays, above and below, going on simultaneously - one in space-time, and the other in time-space. One in his heart and one in his soul. As the night sky slowly turned pitch black once more, he wished days like this weren't so fragile and slippery and impossible to nail down for study in one's leisure. Because as it so happens, the really great moments pass through him like whispers or shadows. They shimmer, but don't adhere. They touch, but never hold on.

Just a perfect day...

Waking up a little bit older...

His million reasons to stay...

As we sat next to each other, reliving what felt like our entire relationship, your eyes were the same colour as the sea in a postcard someone sends you when they love you, but not enough to stay. I could barely believe, how even after all this time, no one can quite set me ablaze like you. Something as little as an unfair accusation, that I would brush off coming for anyone else, sets me down an all to familiar spiral. I guess as much as I'd like to believe that the wounds of us are nothing more than scars, I would be a fool not to admit that deep down, there is something still lurking in both of us. Something sinister.

You can run away from yourself as often as you want, but somehow the broken pieces of glass that cut your feet follow you every step of the way. But what happens if you manage to stumble upon someone who has the strength and courage to pick those pieces up? Would that mean that you wouldn't have to run away anymore, or at least wouldn't get cut when you would? Could that perhaps mean, that you you could stop wandering the endless road - that if someone sees you as something worth staying with - maybe you'll stay with yourself, too. Because when we stay locked up in the spectrum of unsolved life stories and keep hiding in an arcane prism, life remains a mystery behind perpetual tensions and a journey in a world beyond appearances. So while my life was pouring out my feet and seeping through cracks in the floor; I knelt and did not move, for fear you'd let go my hands. "Let me stay", I wanted to beg: "Please don't make me go."

His million reasons to walk away...

There's a trick about the passing of time no one ever tells you about. It begins with the vision to recognise when something has come to an end - and then simply let it go. It means leaving what's over without denying its validity or its past importance to our lives. It involves a sense of future, a belief that every exit line is an entry, that we are moving up, rather than out. So even though it might feel like we are a hundred years old; waiting for the end, let us take this moment and remember the beginning. There are things I need to tell you, but would you listen if I told you how quickly time passes? I know you are unable to imagine this. Nevertheless, I can tell you that you will awake someday to find that your life has rushed by at a speed at once impossible and cruel. The most intense moments will seem to have occurred only yesterday and nothing will have erased the pain and pleasure, the impossible intensity of love and its dog-leaping happiness, the bleak blackness of passions unrequited, or unexpressed, or unresolved. Nothing can shield you from this, for as we have come to learn together - time is never time at all.

My old leather...

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills,

if you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still,

but you're giving me a million reasons,

so I bow down to pray,

and I try to make the worst seem better -

Lord, show me the way.

Everything is like yesterday...

As the year starts collapsing into the next, his desire to see it through with grace and dignity becomes increasingly difficult. Life keeps testing him, and friends that are supposed to lift him up, stir boiling anger within. "I will not succumb to my lesser instincts" he whispers to himself. "I will not lower myself to your level - there is too much at stake." He takes a few more moments to centre himself and gather what is left of his resolve to quench his burning pride. He tries to remind himself of all the good that once existed - of our happiness and joy and pain endured, but it is next to impossible, when the person standing beside him is someone he can no longer recognise. Someone who let their pain rule their life, and is as hell bent on passing it along, as he is to stop you.

Let me know...

Someone told me to leave all my sorrow...

It's astonishing how I manage to stubbornly progress towards a supposedly higher state of being, while my entire world is on the brink of crashing around me. I guess it wouldn't be any fun if it came easy, and it wouldn't mean as much either. Change is only worth it, when one has to endure to achieve it, otherwise everyone would be able to claim evolution where there in fact wasn't any. Change is for the brave and young at heart. It requires nothing else but the ability to see your reflection in the mirror, and the realisation that at any given moment, the reflection isn't real.

I have to de-program myself from myself. Somehow find my way out of the labyrinth of lies and deception I have created with this damaged psyche. I must reinvent my rituals of purification. I am so full of the vagrant pollution of others that it is time to detox. Not only from my addictions, but also needy leeches who looked to swab me with their sores - to detox from my own needy lechery. I have to locate the centre wound and cauterise. Stitch it up and wait for it to heal. To undo the original sin, the origin of my sickness - to finally learn to replace my wants, hurt, anger, sorrow, and loss, with power, healing, wisdom, fulfilment and satisfaction. To find myself once more.

It takes backpacks and a suitcase...

As great as I could, knock on wood...

Someone just told me that there's no tomorrow,

and if that is true, I don't know what to do.

Guess then these troubles are out of my hands,

guess then I'm free to use them to clap and dance.

Remember when we didn't know what to be?

I can admit that was somewhat bittersweet.

guess then these troubles are out of my hands,

guess then I'm free to use them to clap and dance.

I've worn out the world...

Countless times, I have imagined a rising through the rivers of this land, to the surface of a promised oasis, built on the foundations of past lives, of streams of consciousness to be found again, pulled into the air by new hands. The possibilities are endless, but most often I imagine being found by myself from another time - offering guidance and hope. Above me, the sky shimmers and undulates blue through transparent spring water, reminding me that despite the inferno raging in my heart, the world around me offers titbits of tranquillity. I use my hands to break the surface and pull my deluded soul into the air and into uncharted territory of the universe. The delicate bones of my arms and ribs absorb the voice of reckoning, shattering the knowledge of what is possible, and once again, I feel whole.