Tingle of lips fade as I break

Blind light beckon through fog
Sounds muffled cries
Last darkness fades as hope withers
Dawn stretches out
Limbs aching
Bereft of soft touches
Smiles departed

Blood pulse through arteries clanging open
Hearts race
Excitement turned banal
Without love what’s the purpose
Pursuit and climax just dust
One more lonely night
Passed in dreaming

Nothing is real but the grind
Until smooth
Slipping away
Last tears fall
Into the quiet morning

Dream within dream, awake whole

It is first through the dissolution of self which allows us to become truly individual. When we cease seeing through the singular lense of our ego, when those concepts dissolve, we are free to be our truest selves. Both connected to the all, the totality of being, and as a self defined beacon of being. Found at last, without selfish desire. We are allowed behind the scenes and setpieces of physical reality and instead can experience the endless wonder.

But the most important bit, is to come back. To once again inhabit the physical self, limited, but with a knowledge of the possible. It is in the knowledge of the possible that we can begin to see the impact the all.

In the infinite expanse, sentience may not be unique. But you, the individual you. The truly connected and, most importantly, awake dreamer are. You are unique in all the worlds. Each of us is unique in all of the worlds. Don’t see this as platitude. As opiate dreams for the positivity mindful mafia. Instead, hold a truth inside of you.

Carry it with you. Each day you are aware, is a day that you are perfection. The perfection of being singular. Of being all. Each day which is too hard. Too rough. When external life and the demands it places on us for mere existence. When these things drag you away, dream. And remember. You are more than your shell. Than this vehicle of meat and sinew. Revel in being.

You are alive!

In dreams we reach across the diatance

No trick of the light
To have a heart full of stars
Grown in reflection to your love

Sweet dreams
Leave the taste of you on waking
Tongue ache in remembrance

Hands pressed to lips
Savoring a memory of yet to be
Painful dreaming

Waking in I love you
Mind flying the miles
Yearn

A promise to keep you
Safe within my arms
As safe as you desire

Awoke upon a distant dreaming

Waking up every hour
Nightmares playing scenarios through my mind
Drink some water and descend into something so real that waking is relief
Thankful that I am peripheral player in each
But deeper past people I know until I breach some layer
And indelible images which make mock of decency
Of kindness
Play out as if I am a camera lens
Unable to act
Six punctuated hours of sleep
Six different nightmares
There is more sleep in me
But my endurance for nightmares is spent

Pepper on the tongue

Love is layered
One act
One word
Built day by day
Until the inevitable bloom of forever

Love is layered
One act
One word
Hurts day by day
Until the inevitable decay of forever

Love is choice
Conscious actions
Made with care and deliberation

What we feel may be immutable
But feelings are not love
They are but a single layer

It is in the accumulation
In the choice
Where truth lives
……….

And I write of love because we are so distant now
Steeped in love
In desire
In hope
But so far away
It’s a pain that grows
Briefly assuaged by words on the screen
Empty beds
And the need which gnaws at the
Root

“Post”-Quarantine Blues

I’m getting super stressed. Not because of the quarantine. I’ve adjusted to that. Gotten used to working from home in a t-shirt. Prior to this, outside of gym workouts, I haven’t worn a t-shirt in literal years. I’m comfortable. If I’m having a bad time of it, I go and hang out with my cat. I go outside and just soak up the sun.

I don’t have any of the social interaction stress. I don’t have to put on a false front. I don’t lose 2 hours a day to driving to and from work. I get more work done. I enjoy my work more.

But they are making us go back into the office. Effective Monday, May 18th. Because Americans are idiots. Because “the economy” is more important than lives. Because they only know how to fight the last war. Because politicians care more about their electability than the people they are supposed to be advocates for. And because corporations only care about the appearance of what is right and not the actuality of what is right.

So I’m stressed and not sleeping. I finally crashed Wednesday afternoon and woke up at midnight. Missing my posting deadline.

I hope you are all doing better. But, I’ll be honest, I can’t see how it will be better for a long time.

Drift heavy under lidded eyes

I no longer yearn for a past I can never have. For a life given up, no matter how much my semi-worrying off hand comments may make it seem otherwise. I want things now just out of my reach. Things in my life and in my future. Which sometimes seem so far away. However, I know that they are not. Nevertheless, I can’t keep from straining forward. As if attempting to reach that last inch to that last leaf, so far above my head.

It is still good to acknowledge though. That that darkness in me will never flee, though now they are merely half serious jokes. That I once loved deeply. That I again love deeply. That what was will never be again. And that’s ok. What is, is much better than an ephemeral dream. No matter how beautiful.

Seeing is just the beginning

Death doesn’t take or steal
People do that
We do that

Death is a herald of transition
A gateway from one state to another
In its best guise, a traveler
One who walks beside the living
Ready and able to ease the transition

We think to bargain with a power who is powerless to stop. We think we are alone. We think that physical existence is the everything. We have forgotten as much as we have learned.

We have discarded information we cannot prove when the method of proving is a thing of narrow invention. One designed to show that even the “real” is not wondrous. In a petulant rejection of what was.

We invent things and say that they are all there is. Because it’s a less scary world, when we have or can obtain, all of the answers. And perhaps we could actually achieve that. If we stopped attempting to force things we don’t understand and cannot measure into the the twin boxes of impossible.

If science were so pure, it would not start with the rejection of the wisdom of our ancestors. It would instead ask, how can we learn these things without also destroying their beauty.

Death does not bargain. Life does not care. Storms do not rage. We attribute what is in ourselves to that which is alien to us. We narrow things down to only. Instead of accepting that while a process may be observed, the process is not the thing. The component parts are not the thing entire.

Wake up
Wake up
Wake up

Your eyes and heart is waiting