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Fictional Tendencies

The Vestry of Light

The Vestry of Light

The stained windows to the Soul
Gaze upon the sun,
Casting kaleidoscopic images,

Coloring the conversation…

Intimate.

The shadows are too quick to pass judgement
As lies disguised as truths fail to soften the blow.

Woe is the broken heart,
Might it find life and love
Through the passages of time…

In a rhythm yet to be written.

A Night at the Soap Box Opera

A Night at the Soap Box Opera

I remember when masks
Were worn
For theatre and plays,

Now the entire world is a stage.

Every moment an event.
Every memory meant for the masses,
Consumed,
Your Soul was priceless,
Yet, you’ve sold it for cents.

I remember when integrity
Stood for an unimpaired condition;
A firm adherence to a code of especially moral values,
Instead, we’ve confused it with integrate:
Look how the masses run with the sheep.

I remember when masks
Were worn
For theatre and plays,

Now, we’ve lost our way.

…missed opportunity

I miss the memory of you,

that youthful exuberance,

when innocence was a child carelessly laughing.

Un-Cover-Up

Un-cover-up

Finally!

The mask has been removed,
Applied perfections erased,
Raw and intimate truths
Revealed.

There’s strength in the subtleties of beauty.

Soft and elegant,
Perfect imperfections exposed.
I’m lost
In the sweet kiss of tiny freckles.

Transfixed by their natural innocence.

On…(A Series)

On Depression

We’ve met once before,
Regretfully,
It was an extended stay.

 

On Sorrow

If only I could love you
On the level in which
You make me feel.

 

On Happiness

You’re never truly appreciated, understood
Or enjoyed to your fullest
Until you’re gone.

What Was and What Will Never Be

What Was and What Will Never Be (An Idiom)

To sit quietly

And reflect upon

The past,

Knowing full well,

Completely,

It never lasts;

This memory is mine,

The promise was ours,

Long ago made amongst the stars.

The long conversations,

Filled with tears, filled with laughter,

Acknowledging the unspoken regarding the hereafter.

 

We’d be there for each other,

We’d always be friends,

The love of our bond, knowing no end.

Yet distance and time,

Like water on shale,

Would slowly win out, their patience prevailed.

It’s been years

Since a call or a friendly hello,

Time – of the essence, while the distance doth grow.

You remain unmoved

While I remained fixed,

Both engaged in our separate lives, enjoying our time as it ticks.

Now if our past is a mirror

That never reflects,

How can our promises of the future ever project?

Warmth

Warmth

There’s an old shed out by the lake,
That’s where Mom used to stay.

Rocking back and forth
In her chair on the porch
Yelling at kids for not being careful,
Yet quietly smiling at their mischievous hearts.

She’d watch the lake swallow the Sun as it set,
And tuck herself in long after she’s confident that everyone else was in bed.

She’d wake up the Sun
And greet it “Good Morning!”

While settling into her chair on porch,
She’d wave us hello as we walked out into the day,
Then pretend to ignore us while she stared out over the lake.

She’d fall fast asleep in quiet reflection,
And graciously awake when I tucked her into her grandmother’s quilt.

I can still see her sleeping smile as I trace the maze of veins on her century built hands.

There’s an old shed out by the lake,
That’s where Mom used to stay.

Patience Waning

Patience Waning

Ignorant is the Man
That worships His impotence.
The Natural world His throne,
While His lack of action, pride,
Enslaves the Natural Order, instinct;
The foundation of Empires
Already built to fail.

The above prose was inspired by an email my friend Carl sent, it read as follows:

Waiting for the Third Enlightenment

Arrogant, is humankind
To believe its importance
Is the pinnacle of the natural world
And in its actions and beliefs
Reinforcing a blind ignorance 
Of all time and space.

Misplaced

This isn’t the world I was born into,

is it?

Where am I?

I remember crawling up into a metallic tree

and falling asleep.

I counted my steps crawling down,

they were the same going up.

The air smells the same,

but,

the scent of home isn’t as prominent as it once was.

This isn’t the world I was born into.

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