No Turns

The Knight unfound is lost amid faces sunk into our ground.

Show me, hear me, I beg, I plea. May I stay, dare I flee?

Will I show you, will you see? You’re here, after all. Come to see my fall?

Guide my heart, little star. Show me now, is it far?

Where do roads go past this scar?

Roar of days ancient fire twist ‘round my finger, twisting mire.

Will I show you, will you see? The knight unfound, with sleeping bee.

No matter the path I take from here, all is peaceful fear.

“No turns, next 50 miles”, no burns, no smiles.

Knifes edge highway, follow your glowing skyway.

No lines to cross, just uncomplicated direction. No bumps or humps, a subtle detection.

Loops with no condition, quiet night’s introspection. Pain’s stealthy blight, black hearts affection.

Forward or onward, a decisions resurrection. Temptation, a courageous heart’s great imperfection.

Take these wanderings, mind disinfection. Born to fly, gravity’s harsh interjection.

If only to hold, this glowing recollection. Fear the fear, this long disconnection.

Above and below, both paths reflection. Do I see, or is this just my predilection?

I am unclear, even my own objection. Guide me along, proper deflection.

Cookie

Fortune cookies. The name is a bit misleading. Anyone who has every opened up one of these communiqué carrying confections would agree, they predict little and often make even less sense. Maybe they should be called Wisdom Cookies. Thinking about them like that, they aren't so laughable anymore. Maybe that how their supposed to be thought of. I’ve seen some that made me stop and think. I’ve seen some that made me feel better. I’ve seen some that had two semi-conflicting messages inside. I’ve seen some with many words which meant little. I've seen only one that took my breath away. It just had two words. Two words that sum up the most important aspect of life, something that so many may never understand.

Accept

yourself.

It looks so small there on the paper, so insignificant. Its so easy to hide, like its a little secret. But inside these two words are perhaps the simplest and most difficult, easiest and hardest thing one can ever do. So much in so few words. Imagine living without trying to justify every action, without trying to excuse every fault, without trying to hide every blemish, without judgments, without embarrassments, without fear, without shame. Imagine living with a noble heart and a strength. Imagine just living. So much in two words. So much in a cookie.

Missing

There is something I feel like I am missing, yet I know its something I have. I do have it, but its not enough. I am constantly surprised at myself. I’m no fool, yet sometime I feel like one. I’m not blind, yet I don’t see what you see. My world is a very different place then yours. Its okay, I love it here. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just wish I would remember when in Rome, do as the Romans. I’ve let it cause some trouble now and again, but its also worth remembering that I am the stranger in a strange land. Do I have a home of my own? Where we can speak the same language, where we can just be. Its out there somewhere, I like to think I can feel you out there sometimes, calling me. Sometimes I like to think that you hear me when I call back. I say that as if its not true, how do I know you don’t?
When I look up at the sliver of a sliver new moon rising over the mountains. When I see its reflection dancing in the mirror. When the mud hens give me that look with their outrageously absurd face. It doesn’t feel so crazy an idea. What is crazy? There’s no such thing, there is just normal and abnormal. Statistics and majorities. The world tries to call me weird, and that’s fine with me. I would tend to agree with them, the truth is I am unusual. But the world does some very bizarre things too. There was a time, for thousands of years no doubt, where left-handed kids were thought to be simply obstinate. We used to tie children’s left hand behind their backs and make them write “the right way”. It sometimes makes me chuckle a bit, at the silliness of it all. There is no sense in thinking in absolutes like that. Right and wrong are equally illusionary. So am I wrong to think these thoughts? How could I be?
Here’s a secret that no one knows. I used to dream of an angel, Victoria. She would come visit at night as the world dissolved away, watching over me. I remember her wings, feathers long and white. Her face, always obscured, by haze or vale. She was secretive and sly, with a little smile, confident and enigmatic. Not a being one takes lightly. There was no singers or harps, just a quiet attendance. She was my focus, my talisman, and it was thoughts of her I used to still a ever flowing mind.
I tried so hard to believe my dreams were real. I tried so hard to believe my own lie. Some lies feel oh so good. Lies of caring and friendship, peace and grace. I miss her lies, or are they my lies? It doesn’t matter, she hasn’t visited in so long now. But there were others that took her place. Or did they? Maybe it was always her, just in a different guise. No matter, they have all fled, others occupy my twilight hour. Do I wait for her return? Should I call for the missing? A congregation of dreams. A counsel of fragments. What tune will we sing?

On Greatness

The world was once a mysterious place. There was a time, not that long ago, where legends walked the earth. A time where magic happened every day, just out of sight. When it was thought that the Holy Grail was real, a hidden and guarded secret. All one had to do was look hard enough and you could find immortality. At least as a legend in your own right. The man who did such a great deed would forever be remembered in song and story. Can you imagine such a world? Think of the people who set out to find such things, to explore unknown places, to find greatness. But the sad truth is most never found much, never achieved glory. What does it say about humanity? It comforts me to think about people braving imposable odds on not but a wish, a dream. People who set out into the blackest part of the map, faced real peril, for a chance at something greater. People who risked all, and lost, for nothing but hope… And then others followed in their footsteps, knowing the dangers, risking all again.

How small my gambles appear, how diminutive my dangers, how insignificant my troubles. All I risk is pain, how does that compare to life? All I could lose is dreams, and if I lose, my old life still awaits me. How easy life feels all of a sudden. And what do I hope for? The same things as the great ones who have passed before me. I dream of love and serenity, peace and joy, freedom and fulfillment. These are common dreams to humanity, and I dream them nightly. I think of the pioneers who settled the west. How they burned their bridges when they choose to trust in hope. I think how they wagered all for the same things as I, for hope. And there was no going back for them… Do or die.

Even the great treasure seekers were not so different. Because, you see, I don’t think they really wished for glory, fame and riches. These are not dreams in their own right, they are just one outer shell of true happiness. One of many. These are concepts that overlay a basic ideal: an easy life, a fulfilled life. But something does feel different now…

Has the modern world changed something fundamental inside us all? I wish I could say that it hasn’t, but I am starting to wonder… Have we lost touch with hope? There are still great doers, great dreamers, but has the average man lost something? I can think back to so many times where I lost because I never played. And why? Because I wouldn’t ante up. You still have to wager to win… that hasn’t changed, and I hope it never will. But how I greave for what could have been, if fear hand not paralyzed my actions. Is our attachment to the current state of affairs far greater now then our aspirations for what could be? For what will be? Are we existing from day to day, amassing and acquiring, our greatest hope simply not to lose what we already have?

There was a time when I lived this way, not that long ago. But how ineffectual… All structures are unstable, all forms dissolve and change. Chaos rules the world, but that’s not a cynical thing to say. Order is an illusion in our minds, its just a mental concept we attach to things. How strange it is to fight disorder. Its not a fight you can ever win, because it’s a fight with your own perceptions. Its amazing how I would rather cling to a supposed sure thing then risk greatness. Only because of a questionable outcome, will the new state of being be worse then the current one? Maybe… But how did I let that be the end of the conversation? How could I not ask myself, will the new state of being be better then the current one? How could I not let that be the balance for every silly anxiety that had me?

Things are different now. I wish I could say “no fear anymore”… But that would be a lie. Its easy to see these things and know these things, but in the moment of truth… do I still listen to that old voice? Its so seductive, so safe and easy simply to give in. Its been said that bravery is doing something even if your afraid. To disregard that twinge inside and push forward. People of old did it, in the face of great hardship. Surly they were afraid. How could I fail to do the same? And in the face of so little opposition. I’m almost ashamed of my past... But its not the end of the story. I can strive to better myself. Strive for greatness.