One morning I felt a thought moving ahead of where I could see collecting energy from my heart it became so particular about me
that it fought its way over the sticks and stones which fell into broken pieces wherever it went I wondered what it held with single mindedness so purposefully to make it struggle to the front
I followed where it led it would not wait for me it knew more than my mind could it knew about where I wanted to go
but when I called it gave no answer I couldn't stop it I couldn't hold it back while I dithered on and on it went
on a path I could only wonder as though it had destiny all worked out
a sweet song called from deep in the forest so joyful a bird it broke my heart in two and part of me ran to find its nest but it needed no path as I should have known and after a rest off it flew
I retraced my steps back to the forked place at that moment the thought was gone though I found a piece of black lace caught on a thorn
it dissolved in my hand when I held it up to the light leaving powdery graphite on my finger tips which had the forgotten taste of sea spray at night when the tip of my tongue touched it
I heard the whisper of kisses from long ago and then I looked down in silence alone and lost - too late I knew abandoned to my thoughtlessness
Opportunity may knock, but trouble hangs out at the door.
I say this is true at least for me, I had my share of trouble recently a drunk neighbor was hanging out at my door and was harassing me until I got the police and management involved.
I'd rather be less opportune than being your sycophant Because its notyou Who is the author of my story. I'd rather walk alone than being a part of this blind haste Because its notthem Who is the arbiter of my struggling journey. I'd rather fly far than flying high Because now its me who is the ruler of my destiny.
Too often I see people as opportunities Not just humans but possibilities But it's a crime to believe people exist solely for me And that they are more than what God intended them to be
breakfast with you dripping with innuendo and that duck hunt hat makes me feel like i’m being put to bat a test a request for me to take the mistakes of my past and not let them permeate every interaction each moment of satisfaction knowing we’ve hit a home run and the struggle to maintain so it doesn’t all come undone is an effort to find sacred balance. there are things we know that keep uncovering themselves like fossils making it feel impossible to pretend that this is the stuff of dreams it’s a trap, a traipse through memory and certainty and it makes me feel crazy, a feeling i don’t own too well yet wear so easily you can tell how anxious i am to leave before knowing what you’re like in the fall in the winter in the spring and that’s the thing, it’s a burden of time
