cripp[led]

failure from exhaustion, I am the body used.

weak effort

the strain of stranding still pervades my weakened body. Like flimsy paper in the wind, I quiver, even supine. Another long day begins today, and even as sore as I am, somehow I will make it through. Even as tired as I am, I will stay awake. The human body is an amazing thing.

early

overwhelmed by darkness and uneasy sleep, my body aches, and my mind sits frozen in a stupor.

costly focus

Paying with this currency called time, all at once the most superfluous and valuable asset of my life, I must choose which parts of it to sell off and which to keep for the betterment of self. Even as I write, seconds metamorphose into words before my very eyes, and I'm left to recount their meanings one by one. The multitude of distractions within this life amount to an expensive habit, one I cannot sustain unless I mortgage my future happiness.

means to an end

Returning to the scene of the crime with a newfound sense of self. The transgressions of the past may shine in ghostly reflections, however, in their temporary disposition, they are appear as fleeting thoughts. Distractions and instances of fear-based judgements, reminders of the importance of moving on. The grass is greener here, nurtured by accomplishment and the desire to run headlong into destiny.

Zen distraction

Flashes of the lightning mind streak across the expanse, illuminating pockets of darkness as realizations come to light. Moments of clarity, so fleeting in their comprehension, bring to life a fading truth - one which seems to disappear under further scrutiny. The choices of this storm dictate the details of its precipitation, as each moment saturates the ground with conviction. Such dangerous thoughts ramble across the horizon, catching themselves on barbed wire logic, and tearing open gaps in reason. Salvation lies in focus, the ability to concentrate all energy on the present task.

achey

Full phantom featherweight fails to flow freely, now knowing newfound knowledge, and nearly needing none. Such strange strains still speak so sure, softly shivering in silent shouts.

[ob]literate

Prior restraint, alive in its illusion, ushers forth a new understanding of what it means to breathe. The opinions of the marginalized lie skinny on the roadside, withering from lack of agreement. The two-toned revelation which sprouts from the desiccating body spirals upwards and outwards, a thorny vine so gorgeous in its peril. But against such sheepish landscapes, only secrets last. As if the entirety of the malcontents clung in anticipation to the razor's edge.

Snooze Button

Arrested by the manefestation of mental fog outside the window, the oppressive air hangs thick with mist. Cool to the touch, they gray blanket shivers in the sky a justification and a warning not to leave the warmth of slumber. Such sly and dangerous reasoning designed to drag emotion to despair under the guise of rest and comfort, yet it's a temptation given into more often than not. Will the defenses of this conscious mind withstand the onslaught? Or will weakness undermine the good intentions of the day?

Look, a way

Distraction consumes the observer, possessing the obsessed. Any excuse to free the mind from the painful focus of the reality at hand. But the situation stands alone as a defined ideal; not some passing fancy, rather the aim of all desire. To avoid it is to spit in the face of destiny, shying away in the motions of cowardice. Tighten the screws, put on the blinders. Shift attention to the real, and let that obsession define you.

Walking Wounded

Couched within the morning fog, inspired dreamlets seep like tears from tired eyes, and the ache of work drips dull from hollow bones. Longing for rest and respite, yet all too aware that neither are destined for today. Labor waits in the wings, work to stage thereafter. It is one thing to understand what must be done, and quite another to do it.

Sunrise shivers

In the earliest of mornings, the darkness fills the air before the dawn. Awakening to an unfamiliar chill, this body trembles, unaware that just beyond the horizon lies a sun-soaked salvation. Shivering for warmth and the hopes that friction sparks a fire, the heavy sky lifts it's head the the graying twilight. Even the world must contemplate the snooze button. But spinning on its surface, subjected to the resulting circadian influence, we too must make a final bow, shake the weariness from our eyes, and face the coming day.

[this]appointment

Cracked resolve smiles wide under the scrutiny of the everyday. This magnified understanding of man's weakness, presented so enticingly, supports decisions with temptation. Resolve inside the sepulcher; as if the certainty of death knows its own undertakings, infamous for more than just the extinguishing of light. Against such an array, only an alignment with the rising sun can straighten out the refracted pieces of visible magnitude. It is there in the clarity that the truth is found. Fresh mist from burning dew rises and twirls, gilding its edges in the morning gold. Breathe this smoke to clear out the residue of the prior day's intoxication, and allow missteps to be corrected. The transition back must be balanced as wel.

friendly reminders

Sand and opulence paste together in the carving of an icon. A monolithic castle in the sand knows the beauty of impermanence, for the sculpter removes the excess to reveal the shape and structure, only so another can weather the rest away. Rubbing my eyes and coming to grips with the fresh blood of reality, I see stars. And like the gleaming grains of sand, my vision blinds me. Consternation, worry, and the frantic pace of life around me overwhelms the peaceful mind. But it is in the remembrance of the immutable laws that refills my faith. I am not in, I am of, and as such, I am.

Back to Form

The barrage of vibrations assaults my ears and upsets the calm to which I've grown accustomed. The pace of this city, so overwhelmingly frenetic in its distractions gives me pause for concern. It will be harder to focus here than I thought. But that difficulty is merely something that must be handled in due time. This is my home, and I must find a balance here. Already I've been bombarded by negativity and reactionary thought, and despite being able to catch it and recognize it as such, I stil was affected by it. I must give myself time to settle back into the rhythm of my life. I have goals and direction, and with them comes purpose. I can only strive to better myself each day and accept that which has come my way with grace and humility.

Hand holds

Gripping tightly to this final moment, knowing how soon it will become the past, it is the silence I will miss most. The surrounding serenity I hope to take with me, as I'm steeped in so much tranquility. my pace is my own, and that which will come to me will come in it's own time as well. And so, as the seconds turn to minutes,and each one burns through my fingertips like matchsticks, I must face this final morning with the same humility and joy, and be thankful that I still have this day. I will always have this day and these moments. They are of me and in me, and I leave here a changed man.

Taste of Vapor.

Mind flight low over the jagged ground, more like swimming than soaring. Pushing through the icy clouds and eating them like snow. Controlled in the understanding, accepted knowledge of this secret ability. Now with open eyes and clear skies, the thought are different in their placation. Metaphors and meanings now. Interpretations come at last with their own dialogue on how the future should unfold. Now whether dreaming or awake, I am but buoy, free to float in the expanse of possibility.

fixed focus

Glory does not wait. It has no patience for the unfocused mind. It moves at an apparition's pace, skirting the edge of fantasy and reality. One must run towards it, vaulting headlong into the fog. Good and bad exist inside the phantom. The well-intentioned find their way to success, while the distracted become lost. Routine can make a madman or a friend, only he who commits to the lifestyle can determine which.

On departure

A forgiving morning yawns and strokes my cheek in reassurance. Though soon the comfort and care will depart from my embrace, I know that sooner still it shall return. She who is my wonderful. Bittersweet of thankful, I am torn. Happy to have had this experience and shared these moments, sad that I must wake and return. But perhaps it's necessary. For the first time in so long I feel the pangs of longing, in and of themselves indicative of a deeper connection. One I've not had the pleasure of meeting before. Mature in its understanding that all things must grow and be nurtured if they are to live a healthy life, relationships are no exception.

Thank You.

The day of my beginnings, the time when the cycle comes around. It is my birthday, and like the ebbing tide that's been replenished, I'm again made whole by the elements around me. This the 29th orbit of mine, these parts of the sun so dear to me with their long shadows and changing leaves. The summer fades as I age, but this time marks the return of saturn. I've so much left to return to, to learn and be reminded of. I welcome this year with open heart and mind. Facing the day with happiness and gratitude. Love surrounding me. Life of the greatest kind.

Itching to scratch

Anticipation scratches at the back of my throat a sickness as unfamiliar to me as the reasons why it's there. Unknowing as I wake to the beginning of such a malady, I wonder why now? On the verge of lovely visits, and after so many days of health, why does it creep back on the morning of my break? Surely the question will be answered in the coming days, but until then my focus must remain on positive terms. The belief in health is enough to heal, so now I must go on.

re:sounding

The clamor of the malcontent rings out across the silent valley. Windy chatter fills the air with misunderstandings. But as if to signal a new clairvoyance, the sun rises in the favored month. The wheels of the universe move in perpetuity, unaware of man's desires. And so with calm and simple mind, and filled with even breath, one begins the floating journey. Swept along at the pace of what it is, a runaway train at peace with its terminal destination. A ride unlike any before, tailored by intent. And with a resounding call, a new voice echoes from the valley, one of positive acceptance. Gratitude for all that is and will be. A strange and guttural call, but truer than any before.