Debts are due, it's time to pay...

When he was a boy, that was all he wanted - to grow a pair of wings and get up into the sky. To soar towards the stars and allow himself to feel something not of this earth. He had a basement full of failed wing projects. Boards and capes and motors, even a pile of found feathers he once tried to glue together with a bottle of glue; you should have seen his grandmother’s face. But he never got any higher than the backyard fence he’d launch from. He never got inside a cloud.

There's a gentle sigh which descends like billowing silk upon the soul that accepts its coming death. It's a gentle pocket of air in the turbulence of everyday life ... the silk settles around you as if it has been drifting towards the earth forever and has finally found it's target. The flag of defeat has been mercifully dropped and, in this action, the loss is not so bad. Defeat itself is defeated by the embrace of defeat, and death is swallowed up in victory. For there is no such thing as failure. Life sometimes gives you setbacks. It reminds you to be humble, to sit and contemplate, to cope, to support and reinvent yourself based on newly accumulated experiences. It’s a continuous learning process people sometimes don’t fully understand. But, just wait. Just breathe. Let yourself be carried away. With each day you are better - you know more, you experience more - you have more and more resources in order to adjust, to act, and to win.

Holding on to my chest...

Maybe I'm barely alive...

Failure is inevitable. Especially when you have your hand in so many honey jars. The way forward isn't always clear, and what you thought is everything falling into place, might just be everything falling apart. It's hard to determine where you are in the story of your journey as its unfolding in front of your eyes. What may seem as a steep upheaval, can very well turn into an abrupt downfall. I guess there is no real answer, but to accept that not all things shall go as we planned. As we hoped. As we dreamt. Our existence is funny that way. Never quite what we expect, yet never more than we bargained for. Exactly what we need, but never completely what we predict. A whirlwind of emotions and thought, a geyser of anguish and happiness all burst into one single, glorious manifestation of something so simple, yet so unique. Something so intricate, yet elementary. One single word that defines logic, and escapes meaning, yet is so easy to understand. Something you don't have to be afraid of, because it's just ... life. 

Got your chemicals in my veins...

When all the tears are rolling down your face

and it feels like yours was the only heart to break,

when you come back home and all the lights are out,

and you're getting used to no one else being around.

Oh, oh, I'll be there, when you need a little love, 

yeah, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna come through -

you'll never be alone, I'll be there for you.

Lost down the riverbed...

Sometimes you need to sit lonely on the floor in a quiet room in order to hear your own voice and not let it drown in the noise of others. Then, go outside. Don’t tell anyone and don't bring your phone. Start walking and keep walking until you no longer know the road like the palm of your hand, because we walk the same roads day in and day out, to the bus and back home and we cease to see. We walk in our sleep and teach our muscles to work without thinking and I dare you to walk where you have not yet walked and I dare you to notice. Don't try to get anything out of it, because you won't. Don’t try to make use of it, because you can’t. And that's the point. Just walk, see, sit down if you like. And be. Just be, whatever you are with whatever you have, and realise that that is enough to be happy. There's a whole world out there, right outside your window. You'd be a fool to miss it.

It lingers when I'm done...

Soaked to the skin...

I'll be there for you...

There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves - our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives - large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our these pieces better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility, but to a deep trust in those who love us. It is the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born.

Almost escaping my memories...

In my mind, in my head,

this is where we all came from,

the dreams we have, the love we share,

this is what we're waiting for.

And of every beautiful lie that I've been told,

yours is the one I like the most.

Yours is the one that I hold so close -

unforgettable.

She tried to hang me high...

I guess I should be used to it by now ... generally not being liked by most people ... only getting through to a few. It's always been this way, yet still, when I get a clear and undeniable reminder, it stings a little anyway. I'd be lying if I said it didn't effect me; to this day it does. I try to hide it though. Pretend like I'm above it. Little do they know that somewhere deep down I'm still that kid from middle school, looking around the yard, trying to find someone to eat lunch with. I soon realised that it doesn't taste different if you eat it alone ... and if you hold your head high enough, people will mistake your loneliness for pride.

All our opinions are false and don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. We live, we die. We
as individuals don’t matter in this world, we will be a memory if we're lucky. But soon, even our memory will die and then maybe someone will utter our name in passing in this age of technology, as a footnote to something that grabbed more of their attention. So why do we feel we are in a one man play? Why do we want to accomplish so much just to be bellowed as heroes, to be adored or thought highly of by other people who do not even have favourable opinions of themselves? You see the truth is that the trace we leave in this world does not matter, it does not matter at all.

The end is where I begin...

Despair looks different for different people. For some it's a drug fuelled night that ends in regret, for others it's repeating the same mistake so many times it leads you to the brink of insanity. While it may take on a variety of shapes, it always feels the same. Empty and completely withdrawn. The shame and anger dissipate into nothingness, yet you are not overcome with serenity, rather enveloped by the void of feeling anything. You know, without a shadow of a doubt, that something has to change. Something significant. The hardest part is recognising what that may be, as the most evident answers tend to only superficially scratch the surface of the journey needed to ascend beyond the pitch black cavern of utter defeat.

Everywhere I go...

You will never know...

He tries to be brave, for that is the only way he shall one day be able to rise above the fray. This is how he attempts to explain what gives him the strength to do what he does; when that thunderbolt of an idea first hit him and inspired him to row across oceans, it filled him with a sense of purpose so strong that it overcame all his fears. Even when boredom, frustration, fatigue or despair threatened to overwhelm him, it was that powerful sense of purpose that kept him going. Now, finally, the moments of silence are gone. He ran from them into the rush of unimportant things, so filled is the quiet with the painful whispers of all that goes unspoken. Busy-ness is his drug of choice, numbing his mind just enough to keep him from dwelling on all that he fears he cannot change. A compilation of coping mechanisms - he has become his fatigue. Unwilling or unable to cut himself free, he is dragged in its wake all too quickly toward his end.

Stumbling onto an empty street...

 

Your face, unforgettable...

I do not stand at your grave and weep,

you are not there, you do not sleep. 

You are a thousand winds that blow. 

You are the diamond glints on snow. 

You are the sunlight on ripened grain. 

You're the gentle autumn rain. 

When I awaken in the morning's hush,

you're the swift uplifting rush,

of quiet birds in circled flight. 

You're the soft stars that shine at night. 

I do not stand at your grave and cry; 

you are not there, you did not die.

I was lightning before the thunder...

Once again I am at a crossroad. One way leads me down an all too familiar path, paved with ambition, resilience and my lonesome grin. I have chosen it many times and I have grown accustomed to the way it feels. I know its pitfalls and its delights. I have tasted its nectar and have become engorged by its addictive scent. The other ... is uncharted territory. It demands patience and understanding - a grounded ego and steady resolve. I have yet to master the logic behind it, as it avidly avoids definition. I have nothing to compare it to and no reliable map to guide me. All I have is my heart and its soft beat to warn me of dangers ahead. What does one choose then? How does one cross the threshold and continue onward? Two completely different turns, the consequences of both detrimental to my future. Is anyone out there? Does anyone know?