No rules in breakable heaven...

The leap of faith is this: you have to believe, or at least pretend you believe until you really believe it, that you are strong enough to take life face on. You just avoid thinking about any of the nasty minutiae of the real world, don't get caught up in that awful boring thing, with its bills and laundry and groceries and arguments over whose turn it is to take out the trash and all that. Turns out there is an actual saga going on right in front of you. A grand epic. A tale as old as time. A story of loss and betrayal. Of being lost and found again.

Undecided in the clouds above...

When I’m found I feel lost...

I think some things we must always be unable to bear. Some things we should never just accept and we must never stop refusing to bear them. Injustice and outrage and dishonor and shame. No matter how young or how old we have gotten. Not for kudos and not for some sort of principle: not for pleasing others or for some momentarily glory. We must just refuse to bear them.

A longing to wander tears his heart when he hears trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the one who raised you, for new metaphors for life. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is a new beginning. 

Open me up...

Did you know that there's a tunnel 

under the boulevard of broken dreams?

Mosaic ceilings, painted tiles on the wall.

I can't help but feel somewhat like my body marred my soul.

Handmade beauty sealed up by two man-made walls.

Let me plead my case...

Pictures and passing time...

I remember,

I remember everything.

One day, it will all make sense, it will all be revealed. Until then, I learn to live and accept my shadows, my déjà vu's, my dreams, my intuition that takes me to places that my mind never conceived, my body only perceived and my soul gladly remembered. Of course, I'm quite worried, stressed, confused and lacking direction at times, but in the same way at peace, stable and walking in the right direction once I get things sorted. I'll give it some time, give it some light, give it some love. I think I'm not very far away.

My fear of heights...

I knew it would come eventually. The backlash. The jealous outbreaks. The grasp for my demise. Yet, despite preparing myself, I am still left a bit shaken. I won't let anyone see it though. I will shrug at it, feign disinterest and hope they don't notice. The less I care, the less chance they have of hurting me, right? But what if it's already too late. What if the machinations being concocted behind my back have already gone too far? There must be a way for me to find out. Being caught off guard is almost as bad as being defeated. I have to carefully anticipate the next step. Make my move before they make theirs. Every next action counts.

I hope you'll understand...

Mine, all mine...

Moon, a hole of light,

through the big top tent up high.

Here before and after me,

shining down on me.

Moon, tell me if I could,

send up my heart to you?

So, when I die, which I must do,

could it shine down here with you?

Lead him up the stairwell...

No longer expecting a saviour...

I am at a point in my life when my heart burns with passion, and my faith is at its peak. I feel like I have my destiny by the horns, and I am at the pinnacle of my preconceived desires materialising in ways I never truly imagined. I force myself to believe beyond my minds eye and see the light, the energy that will fill my half full cup to the brim, and overflow with joyous life experiences. I will think it, see it, and live it. I will expand.

But these type of revelations don't come without a price. Extreme anxiety, fear, exhaustion, and lack of other viable options are what caused me to surrender everything. I found that desperation is the raw material I need for drastic change. Crisis spurs within me critical, dramatic shifts of my psyche. Only when I am willing to lose everything will I have the courage to try. Now that I am desperate, I am dangerous. I am also ripe for transformation.

Just before the summer disappeared...

He had come to that moment in his age when there occurred to him, with increasing intensity, a question of such overwhelming simplicity that he had no means to face it. He found himself wondering if his life were worth the living; if it had ever been. The question brought with it a sadness, but it was a general sadness which had little to do with himself or with his particular fate; he was not even sure that the question sprang from the most immediate and obvious causes, from what his own life had become. It came, he believed, from the accretion of his years, from the density of accident and circumstance, and from what he had come to understand of them. He took a grim and ironic pleasure from the possibility that what little learning he had managed to acquire had led him to this knowledge: that in the long run all things, even the learning that let him know this, were futile and empty, and at last diminished into a nothingness they did not alter.

Don't sleep as good as I used to...

Going to steal some time and start again...

So how do I one day say goodbye,

to someone who's been with me for my whole damn life?

You gave me my name and the color of your eyes,

I see your face when I look at mine,

so how do I, hopefully one day far away, say goodbye?

Can't promise that I'll stay...

I'd like to believe that a little writer's block can be a good thing. Your inner-literary critic's way of gently letting you know you're really stinking up the joint. You're off track. Lost in the weeds. Need to go back and rethink things. Sometimes it's just a matter of temporarily writing yourself out. Life gets too fast, and you can't keep up. Like as of late, my steady spree of ramblings has become a sprint I am barely able to finish. Maybe the tank has suddenly dried up and I don't have anything more to say. I need to take a breather, but my mind doesn't allow me to. I have to find a way to let my subconscious work its magic again and hope that the words will come back to me one day. There simply is no other way.

He puts his foot to the pedal...

All right then, he is claiming the right to be unhappy. Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have dementia and cancer; the right to gain a bit too much weight, the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to be called out for his toxicity; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind. He claims them all. He will be savage at last.

Everyone has that moment I think, the moment when something so momentous happens that it rips your very being into small pieces. And then you have to stop. For a long time, you gather your pieces. And it takes such a very long time, not to fit them back together, but to assemble them in a new way, not necessarily a better way. More, a way you can live with until you know for certain that this piece should go there, and that one there.