Trying

My dear, I don't know what to do or say today. Won't you help me decide? Should I tell you what I have been meaning to?I have been trying, really trying. But if that does not work, because it has not so far, should I cut and open my heart out on blank pages of paper instead? Would you listen then, would you understand? You remember our secret place, don't you? I am convinced that even after you forget and I forget, that place will not forget us. It will remember every word we said, even the echoes of the thoughts that we did not utter.. I am sorry if that frightens you, but you should have been wiser. In my defense, I did warn you.

 On the way to the place I tried to tell you and on the way from the place I tried to tell you. I tried to tell you as soon as we got there and I tried to tell you when it was almost time to leave. I tried to tell you in the dark-light. Once, I came close to telling you, but I was rudely interrupted by the dog that started to whimper. You see, don't you, how hard I tried?

I find myself at a crossroad now. Should I sit here and do nothing? Nobody is asking anything of me after-all. Should I stare back at the empty sky and try desperately to grab from it some sense of self, some reason to fill the void I have created? Or should I keep walking, half-asleep, only half-aware, only half-looking at this house of broken glass and mirrors that we call life? Now it is too late to tell you. Now I will just suppose that by some miracle you know, that you had a moment of epiphany or that the trees in that place told you what I could not. 

So long. As always.

You don't always

You don't always understand what you hear. Sometimes, the words are hollow but there is a lot being said in the gaping voids in between. Have you not seen the homeless and the dogs sleep in big hollow pipes to stay warm? You don't always recognize love, because people love in different ways. Fire only knows how to burn; would you try to save a drowning man by lighting him? But when you come to his funeral and look at his ashes, you will know what released him.  You don't always believe in magic, in god, in poetry, or in lies. If you didn't see the spider's intricate web, would you still understand simplicity as well? Have you ever peeled an onion? People cast layers to protect everything they love as well. You don't always like running. The sun is caught sleeping on the job too. You don't always like what you see. Sunshine means smiles for you, but when you open the curtains too abruptly on a summer’s day, you raise your hand to shield your eyes.  You don't always bring yourself to say the things you want to. Mumbled goodbyes are in fact harder than long speeches. You don’t always think much of the curious air of hyper reality. Ask a child; he’ll tell you that a pond is a lake, a breeze is a storm, a handful of dust is a desert and a monster lives under the bed.