Finger on the pulse...

It's not what you look at that matters; it's what you see. And my perspective was now open to uncertainty. And where there was uncertainty, there was also possibility, whatever the present looked like. I see so very clearly the life I could lead, the lives I could change, the memories I could make. But the path to this paradise is hidden. I occasionally see the outskirts of a path, but as quickly as it manifests, it slips from sight. There is something out there for me. To take as my own. To use. To redefine. I will not fear, and I will continue to grasp towards it. I think I can see something in the dark. 

May he be forgiven...

For the first time, it's really evident to me that as much as I might desire change, I have to be willing to take a risk, to let go of the past. In other words, I have to finish what I started. And then what? This isn't so much about time on my hands as about life in my hands. And it's life as currency. Where am I going to spend it? What’s the best value? I'm limited only by what I can dream and allow myself to risk. It seems pointless to go on for the sake of going on, if there isn't some larger idea, some sense of enhancing the lives of others. I have so many plans and fantasies of how the world could be a better place. But no idea how to get there.

Going somewhere sane...

That's just the way life goes,

I like to slam doors closed.

Trust me, I know it's always about me,

I love you, 

I'm sorry.

Dance with me one more time...

Losing track of days...

The endless void of space stretched out before him. Millennia had passed as he roared through the planes of the galaxy. The awesome ellipse of his original path was continually altered by intermittent proximity to myriad stars. He gave off minute bits of himself as he rocketed silently through the vacuum of space, but still, after all these millennia, he was counted large as such things were measured, and the fact that he had never collided with anything else after such a tremendous interval of travel was a mute testimony to the vastness and comparative emptiness of the universe.

Much as the people around him, he is comprised mainly of space, not of matter, so the universe, for all its galaxies and solar systems, is comprised primarily of interconnecting emptiness. Dark, colossal, mindless, and mighty, he came on and on through space. The great alignment had set him on his path. Now, one last nudge had fixed the remainder of his course on a fateful rendezvous. Though he was oblivious to his own destination and nothing in the universe with awareness had yet detected him. His path was set.

Something's got a hold of me lately...

Time breaks your heart...

It really hurts to let go. It seems the harder you try to hold on to something, the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't come back. You're left with a feeling of loneliness that can't really be explained. Damn, there's nothing like that, is there? 

Don't let the curtain catch you...

Dredging of great white sharks, 

swimming in the bed.

And here comes a killer whale, 

to sing me to sleep.

Thrashing the covers off, 

has me by its teeth.

A ship to wreck...

Might not be forever...

Being alive is finite. That which exists must be finite. That which does not exist is infinite potential. The potential is potential existence. That which may exist already exists in a different form. The infinite potential is the ability of the being always to be new. Nothingness exists in the form of nonexistence. Existence of nonexistence exists. Infinity of the finite is the secret of existence. The very finiteness of the eye of the universe leads to infinity. Only nothing is infinite in its endlessness. Its endlessness is its end. The nothingness of itself and for itself is absolute.

Hold his chest, let it breathe...

Sometimes, I'm overwhelmed by it all, the vastness of this life, the absolute miracle that I exist at this moment in time. How much magic is out in the universe, stretching beyond what the eye can see, reaching distances the mind can't even comprehend? Yet I am here. I am alive. 

When it comes to success, he can't ever get enough. His entire self-worth is based on it, and he tends to go from victory to victory to avoid feeling awful. In a way, it's pure homeostasis at work. The buzz from triumph is neutralized quickly, leaving him in a state of hangover and angst. Knowing he will be looking for the bump again very soon, his brain ultimately adjusts to a baseline feeling of anti-success. After a while, he needs it constantly just to not feel like a failure. He will run and run but make no real progress toward his goal - simply avoiding being thrown off the back from stopping or slowing down.

It's okay, I'm okay...

When it's all said and done...

I am not okay,

I'm barely getting by,

I'm losing track of days,

and losing sleep at night.

I am not okay,

I'm hanging on the rails,

so if I say I'm fine,

just know I learned to hide it well.

Listen to the ones that love you...

Don't prove I'm right...

He hopes he'll get to see you again one day, and that you'll say sorry, and he'll tell you you're forgiven. He hopes he'll find all the pieces of his mind that fell out of his head over all these years, and that he'll be able to put himself back together again. I hope the echoes of pain will fade, and the memories of sorrow will die, and that he'll have visitors when he's old and grey. And he hopes you'll have a happy ending of your own. For who could think of hell without hope?

I move too fast...

I'm starting to get really hurt by the injustice of how his life turned out. He did everything right as a son, a brother, a husband, and a father. And then being dealt this hand so late in life? Cruel and unnecessary. And the worst part is, I don't think there's basically anything I can do about it. Perhaps most of all, I should not make it about myself and learn to live with this hurt, stand up, and move on as he will undoubtedly have to. It's what I'll do now. It's what I’ll do tomorrow and the next day. For however long this fight goes on. Just stand up. And I rise slowly to my feet. Heavy and shackled with weight. I still move.