we drive today on friday the thirteen toward that eternal battle between life and death, hoping against hope for good news good friendship good times even if they could be the last. i have never faced death myself, though he teased me once with a glimpse many years ago as our car spun around and slammed into a ditch. he has taunted me many times hence by plucking the ones i love from my life…
there are days where music is background noise, a dozen conversations overlapping in the confines of a glass room. there are days where music is a beating pulse, a throbbing rhythm driving the momentum of your work. and then there are days where music is the invisible beauty, ethereal sound waves filling and overflowing your silence completely.
I am a little lost Floating Free falling Without an anchor To keep me grounded. The soil here is harsh Unwelcoming And half the things I love Do not grow. Unable to Calm me Comfort me And remind me of home. Cuttings from Grandma’s Lilac tree And pussy willows And the moonflowers That spoke the secret language Between us.
some days i write and it is easy. it feels right, it feels done, and i sit back contented. other days i worry it like a dog with a bone and it refuses to lie down and rest completed. it calls me back time and again, the stubborn mutt that will not give up the rabid bark of incompetent alarm.
a message from the blue, out of time out of rhyme, shocks the system and tingles at the edges of old scars. stirring memories of things gained and of things lost. the naivete of youth that left you gun shy, tainted, and a little less eager to thrust your soul out into the void. where once you thought all you needed was hope and love to survive and thrive.
the night has a thousand voices and though their languages may all be different their meaning is the same. nothing is truly alone for all is connected, bonded for life and even after, for nothing ever really disappears. our molecules, our atoms combine, break apart, and combine again as something new, something different, shifting phases of existence. it is most literally a circle of life, continually turning, and ever changing.