Around and around we go
Spinning out of control
With what to show?
A beaten soul
A broken heart
A hefty toll
The cut leave not a mark
Hidden from all
We lay awake in the dark
We hesitate, we stall
No where to run, no one to call
One is cold like a fallen stone
One is warm waiting for love to be shown.
The young worry about that which does not matter.
The old worry about what the perceive to matter.
Nothing really matters as much as we thing it does at the time.
Spend less time worrying, more time smiling and enjoy your life, after all, it’s the only one you get.
Why fill it with worrying?
There is no diamond or jewel in the world that sparkles brighter than a woman’s eyes when she is in love.
You can see it if you look. The familiar glimmer of hope that they are the one, the look of total devotion and content.
It makes me smile to see it.
Life for many is a sequential play acted out day by day. Meticulously precise and never changing, the whelk keeps turning but they never go anywhere.
Anxiety, worry, stress and doubt fill their minds as the look towards the future. While all the time regret, apathy, guilt and depression eat away at their emotional being because they are stuck thinking about the past. Think about how it could have been different.
They go between the future and the past. Bouncing back and forwards. Never living in the moment, only living in the illusion of hope or retrospect.
They join the ongoing cycle of meaningless existence.
Stuck, on Rinse and Repeat.
Last night I had the dream.
You were in pain.
You were suffocating. Drowning. Slowly dying and no one could see… No one, not even me.
I had blocked out thoughts of such possibility and accepted the chosen reality.
Then you were there, stood in front of me. You had to show me something so that I would understand. Your ‘Life’s dance’ you called it. While graceful and divine it was filled with shape turns, rough edges and a look of fear.
You broke down in tears.
I tried not to succumb to the cries of the Banshee. I fought the Sirens call with all of my will, but what I could not bear to see was the pain in your eyes. It tore me apart, both heart and soul.
I pulled you close. I told you everything would be ok.
I had lied.
Nothing would ever be ok… Not for you. Instead the lie that had now become the truth was all you had.
It’s all you would ever have.
The coffee shop is full of people as per the norm.
Friends, family, colleagues and more.
In amongst the crowd a lone man catches my eye, it seems no one else has seen or taken any notice of him; it is like he’s a ghost among the living. No older than myself but very slight in frame and stature, drinking a large hot chocolate with a sultry look. The more I focus on watching his small and gentle movements, the more fascinated I become. He raises the drink to sip it every 7 seconds as if part of a clockwork routine, then I begin to feel a cold sorrow filling my soul.
I take notice of his clothes; slightly worn in, but about 20 years behind the current fashion trends. A plastic rain mack is draped over his chair, he seems old before his time, he seems to be living a life that isn’t really his.
A short time passes, possibly 5-10minutes at the most and then he leaves.
My eyes follow him, he limps towards the door and struggles to pull it open. I decide to stand and help him. He looks at me with a sad smile and says thank you.
Then he was gone.
Now I am sat here wondering, thinking about so many different things, perhaps I was wrong about him. Maybe I wasn’t seeing what I thought, maybe I was simply seeing my reflection cast on a vacant face.
I am slowly being suffocated by the mud. The more I struggle the deeper I sink, no matter the strength I use.
Now I am calm, tranquil, serene. Finally I can see the way to break this crushing pit.
I must allow myself to sink to it’s depths, once I’m there it’s hold will diminish and I can break free.
My only hope is I can hold my breath long enough to escape this pit.
Bitter are the people scorned. They hold their grudge in hope one day for retribution, absolution, revenge…
Learning to let go is a divine practice, one that I have yet to master in all aspects of life. Still, I will hold my tongue and ignore the childish rankings of the jealous few.
They are not worth it.
It feels like I’m floating, drifting, suspended with no propulsion or purpose. Only held in place by a few loose string.
I’m just there.
The more I look for answers inside myself the less I find. When I meditate there is nothing, just the feeling of the planets energy and that of my surroundings.
I grow detached.
Soon I will leave this place, there is no need for me to stay. The routine bores me, watching life pass by, it’s time to leave the comfort behind.
“Those who understand the price of hate will know it’s too high.”