And took another road...

When two people are able to weave that kind of invisible thread of understanding and sympathy between each other, that delicate web, they should not risk tearing it. It is too rare, and it lasts too short a time at best.

The world is full of travelers, literal and metaphorical ones. So at least once a year, I like to go somewhere I've never been before. Just so I can spot some of those seekers. The hopeful wanderers, enthusiastic story-tellers like me, happy families, like the one I used to have. I look into their eyes and I am immediately stuffed with wonder and the realization, that in fact, I might drop dead at any moment. As I look at the world, I find that it's more beautiful than any dream I've have ever seen. I hope one day I might be able to share this with my kids. Or grandkids even. Maybe they would understand better.

I've had a good run...

Like tattoos and regrets, words I never meant...

He is slowly learning that he should treat anger like flowing water; there's nothing wrong with it as long as he lets it flow. For he has learnt that anger that he denied himself the freedom to feel, the freedom to flow, became water that was gathered in one place and left to forget. And stagnant water becomes dirty, stinky, disease-ridden, poisonous, deadly; that is his hate. After awhile, on the surface of flowing water, he notices little paper boats making the extremely slow way down the current. He would like to think of them as harbingers of forgiveness. He is human, despite it all.

The things you can't erase...

I find it quite unfortunate how when I finally get some time for myself and getting on in life, my brain starts playing tricks on me. I might be having a completely normal morning - a good night's sleep, chores out of the way, a smile on my lovers face, and then for no reason at all I get this wave of memory flushing over me so strong I have to sit down for fear I might keel over. It's usually some stupid little recollection. Something I haven't thought of for years. But it comes back so strong I feel undone. I finally got the peace and quiet I thought I was after all these years and now that it's here, I wish there was something to fill it back up again. These days I live more in my mind than on the ground. The past seems more real than what I spend my time doing.

The truth is bulletproof...

I know I used to be crazy,

I know I used to be fun,

you say I used to be wild.

You tell me time has done changed me.

That's fine, I've had a good run.

I know I used to be crazy,

that's becausе I used to be young.

Next thing you know...

Music in the madness...

Sometimes going to war costs us far more than we bargained for when we fired the first shots. And sometimes, even when you win by all accounts, you lost the few things that made you alive. That's when you need to remember that everything you need to know about life can be found in stories. They define life. Their anatomy shows us how things can unfold differently in the future. How we might live differently than this godawful place we ended up in. 

Today wasn't the best. It was a day to survive, to grit my teeth, to curl yourself up, and get through, not one to really live. But a little voice inside me whispered that at least I was beginning to learn the difference. And that was worth celebrating, for I have found ways to get through even the toughest of days. Counting helped me a lot. There was something calming about the succession, the order, the absence of chaos without the terror of dreading inevitability. Six came after five, and it would always come after five, and there was never a reason for anyone to be upset that it did.

It leads me back to you...

Time’s the only cure...

I have got to the age now where I can see how short a time we have to be here. And when I think about it, it can seem strange beyond telling that this particular bunch of us should be here on this little patch of ground in this little patch of time, and I can think of the other times and places I might have lived, the other kinds of man I might have been. But there is something else. There are moments when the heart is generous, and then it knows that for better or worse our lives are woven together, trying to figure out what it all means. And to not be so very alone.

Anything to make me believe...

I toss and turn when I sleep at night,

too many things on my mind.

I can't change and I see,

shadows on the walls of the cave tonight,

give me fire, help me rewire my primitive mind.

Seems like the blind is leading the blind,

help me to revive,

quiet these voices that dim my eyes.

Welcome to my island...

But I see you in my fireflies...

They aren't demons at all,

only the jagged parts of himself he'd hidden from the sun.

I really need to believe that justice will be served. Even if completely out of my reach or knowledge. Even if a thousand miles away, or perhaps somewhere completely out of this world. I need to believe that you are fine, and that you have forgiven me, and that when we meet again you will be proud of how I handled things and tell me all the ways you protected me along the way. Justice is supposed to be an anchor, an answer. It does not feel like compensation. It does not even feel like satisfaction. It is the simple smile on your face before you go to sleep, knowing that you did everything you could, and the rest is up to the universe.

Put a light on me...

I know amazing grace...

And every time he grabbed his pen and started writing down his stories, he felt as if all the different lives he lives are taking shape. He did not know why and what would the result be, but he just wanted them to get their do and not remain forever stuck in his head. His motto when things come down is, go with the wind, let it take you where it wants to go.

Dear reader, here is a sad truth: you and I both fall short of being humans. We might as well just admit it. Our primal failure is not something we add to ourselves and need to get rid of, even though it feels like an unsurpassable burden. Rather, let's look at it as a defect, a falling short on our part of living up to our nature, a failure to be human in the full sense. I guess that's what all spirituality is built on. The notion that we have failed and are trying to find our way back again. To someone, to something. To ourselves. Some of us just need a bit longer to get there.

Like a compass needle needing its true north...

If your kiss turned me to stone,

I'd be a statue standing tall in Ancient Rome.

And if your touch shattered me like glass,

I'd be in pieces trying to make the breaking last.

If it took one look to turn my days to night,

at least I'd have the stars that sparkle in your eyes.

My body blazing...

A tremendous thunderclap was heard, the loudest there has ever been. The sun remained hidden behind dark clouds, and there was only twilight, gray and misty. Then the earth trembled, and there came a great roar of something immense. What was left to do than hold each other's hand and be together? Because perhaps that is what life is actually - just being with each other. And maybe this is also what death is, all of us curled up together: perhaps because of broken ribs and shared heat, or perhaps because of the universal need we have for each other. A flood buried the two together, alive, and although they sang unheard pleas, they were singing together.