If I am to be something or if I am to be in the act of being, then it seems necessary to be aware of what I do and to understand my reasons for doing. I find that my actions here are, at the best of times, an attempt at vanity and, at the worst of times, a cry for attention. On one hand I find myself acting in a manner that disagrees with the ideal in my mind. On the other I find myself achieving little to nothing in an effort toward unethical goals. This would appear to be an effort in futility in any respect. What was I trying to achieve when I began? That is a question only relevant to historical analysis applied to present and planned action. What am I trying to achieve now? I want to love someone to the extent that it could never be challenged and never changed. I would gladly die so that they might live. I want someone to love me like that. I want that to be possible. There is my star, and I will follow it wherever it leads. There is nothing more that I can do here for that dream. So, I guess this is goodbye. Thank you to anyone who thinks that anything that I have produced was beneficial to their lives in some way. I don’t wish love or peace to you. I wish only that you find that one thing that you desire beyond all others. When you strip away all of the superficial wants that are collected over a lifetime you will eventually reach a single goal, one solitary wish at the bottom of the well. I want in my soul for you to find that apex desire, know it, then live it and live for it. Don’t ever compromise. Don’t be led astray. Stay true. Stay strong. Follow your heart to and through darkness. Endure pain for you can never reach the other side if you turn back. To Paradise. See you on the other side.
I place my hand upon the door,
and it feels like plastic beneath my fingers.
Behind closed eyelids your face appears.
The smile will inevitably fade, yet the joy still lingers.
In another world the melody of your voice
Still sings and speaks my name
Through delicate lips known only by memory,
Words scattered by a temporal wind, yet meaning meticulously maintained.
You asked what I would do
Should you exist in your room and I in mine;
Would my heart persist in its reckless quest
As your life lay exposed and starkly defined.
Yet, here I am, hand placed gently on unyielding portal
With only resolution in the perception of an unfailing truth,
That beyond this doorway exists something immortal;
The essence of significance, ethereal quality of beauty
Born not of any tangible nature
But of the courage flowing from the wellspring
Of the exquisite heart of loving nurture
To soothe and rain sweet succor on suffering
While feeling all the ills and desires of a cancerous society,
You swallow the poison pills produced by hungry hearts,
A mother to all selfish children feeding upon your generosity,
Your light is shed as rose’s petals from winter harsh.
Let me be not a child seeking maternal sanctuary.
Let me be not the winter that wilts and lulls to exhaustion.
Let me be an oasis in the desert, an occasion to revive and dream.
Let me be a Homestead of stone, an edifice of inviolate construction.
For I know what awaits beyond the gateway that divides;
The image that is but expression for your singularly shining soul,
That one radiant star, appearing as a constellation.
Cygnus, my darling, what is one among your whole?
For to love one star is to love them all;
To distinguish one aspect for disfavor is to deny you completely,
But to deny such a presence is akin to a fall.
So, I choose to love the star in the room;
One star among many, an entire universe,
Yet all held within your eye;
Window to your soul, a mystery diverse.
Precious is this star in the vastness of your sky.
How will I live in our separate rooms?
As I have from the moment that the mystery unfolded into sweetness sublime;
Cherishing my connection with the miracle in the next room;
Seeing you for everything that you are and loving all that I find.
Is it not enough that I say that I love you, the idea that I take to be representative of you? Must I profess to love an entity that is wholly independent of my own mind? I feel this love, and I embrace it. It matters not to me if such a love springs forth as stimulated by some foreign body or by the manifestations of my own consciousness. Should it be a matter of such importance that I conceive of you as you perceive yourself? Can I not find the same significant and unique quality in either a seperate, wonderful soul or in a thought, an idea born from aether and of ethereal nature that holds sway over my heart in identical fashion to any conceivable independent agent? Does your independence from my mind cause my heart to favor you any more? Would your likely genesis from my consciousness cause me to adore you any less? Your insistence on existence as you believe yourself to be holds no relevance as to the affection that bends and shapes my thoughts toward you in an ever flowing stream. Were you to be a phantasm, my love for you would be not ghostly but adamant in its structure. Were you but a dream, my love for you would not fade upon the waking but persist lest my mind find oblivion. Were I to pierce the veil of your being and find only myself in the product of my own conscious or subconscious machinations, I would then love such a product of my imagination as the magnum opus of an ingenious and exquisite mind. It matters not, you see, be you phantasm, dream, or simply reflection. I love the truth of what I experience in you in whatever form it may take at any given moment. Whatever transient form you may take, whatever face you may wear, my love persists as your truth persists, entwined and inseperable, for as long as this mind endures.
I actually kinda like this one. It is strange to look back and see something of who I am now in who I was then. In my mind I am something new, born from the ashes of yesterday’s discarded and immolated life. Yet now it seems that my life is not so different than it was then. Is life simply a circle? Love, loss, despair, death, rebirth; Is this fate, a neverending cycle?
As the sun slowly sets
On the mountain’s face,
The fickle world forgets,
No more to fear the days.
Dusty grave and mouldy tomb
No longer plague the mind.
For no string strung upon the loom
May feel the winter of time.
Aging threads may no longer
Feel the scissors’ blades.
Each one, once again grown stronger,
Resists the inevitable fade.
I found some old stuff. I’m posting it because it exists. I don’t remember what significance or meaning it once held.
Alight upon angel wings,
Away from the wretched crawling things.
Fly high in clouds of bliss away
From the fiery pits in which you lay.
Run from the burning hold,
From the love for which your soul you sold.
Speed up to Heaven’s shores
Away from the lies, the blood, Adored.
Beloved Adored, turn your eyes for they dim the sun.
Oh Adored, be afraid of the dark, my love.
If to be is to be perceived,
And to be is to be deceived,
Then by what reason should it be believed
That there exists a perceiver
And, indeed, as well a deceiver
Of which one can not conceive,
One can not perceive,
And one can not deceive?
Sunlight strikes my eyes
Awakened from an endless sleep
How long have I slumbered
In eternal night so deep?
Soft, flickering shapes form this new awareness
Light to shadow and back again
Green, then blue, this whimsical color play
The feel of grass, the scent of earth
My fingers touch the ground beneath me
Leaves dancing in the breeze above
Birds speak in their joyful song
Their notes mingling with the wind
To create the quiet score
For this sylvan theater
What is this place
Sublime images of the subconscious
Or in the reverie of nocturnal wanderings
Have I travelled to such unfamiliar destination
Under hypnotic influence of sleep?
The question remains unanswered
In my mind as I stand
Confusion of waking moments giving way
As trees of light and shadow stretch
To the limits of my sight
Precious scent of sweetest lavender
Carried on the silken breath and sigh
Lures my feet to find purpose
To tread as if in treasured dream
Stiff limbs stirred to measured step
Take flight toward unseen inspiration
In the reflection is a coward
Wandering in a haze before death
Aimlessly stalking the halls of flesh
One last soft descent before the fall
Enamoured with a material existence
Everyone lost in pleasant dreams
The light hurts my eyes, so why should I
See when I can taste this honey in darkness?
If I could find the soul here
Among these painted flowers, so vibrant in color
Yet lacking in substance, without scent
What a novel entertainment that would be
I saw you without any pretense
An awkward angel, only thin sunlight
Spreading thin fingers across alabaster
Masterpiece to my eyes, this ethereal form
Only another image taken in that moment
How could I understand from my lonely interment
What life resided within the earthly shell
What beauty behind the azure sky?
Suddenly a song so sweet
Notes meant for my ears alone, Piercing the foggy veil
Of my consciousness, that kiss of divine notes
Made me aware that one flower was breathing
What arrogance could cause in selfish certainty
A declaration of love with but a glimpse
Of a paradise forgotten, a destiny forsaken?
In my reflection I recall a liar
The words can not connect with actions
Asymmetrical existence, thoughts bent on singular purpose
What ignorance could harm, with careless agony
Sweet, precious flower, a truth within falsehood?
Yet the spirit sustains, and love remains
A monument, enduring the harshness of adolescence
You held me as my soul sought to drown us
Both in the tears, deep and hungry
Timeless is the beacon that calls us to birth
We stand in fields of lavender at the navel
Our light is experienced in pristine clarity
The stars are shining
How often do you feel that you have been wronged? Has your faith in institutions, concepts, or people been abused? What level of responsibility do the things you invest your faith in owe to you?
This argument first requires that you believe in free will. It does not require that you believe that we are absolutely free and that all goals and dreams are possible to achieve within our lifetimes. You must only believe that there is at least one choice that is possible to make free of external influence. Think of what choices you have made with your free will on the path to the situation in which you now feel wronged. You could have made other decisions, and there could have been alternate outcomes. Yet you made your choices and now you must accept the responsibility of the consequences.
It is painful to accept that you must bear all responsibility for the results of your decisions. It is an attractive response to want to share that weight with others. Yet, they must carry only the burden of their own decisions. Do you believe that the things in which you place your faith are perfect? If you must admit that they are not, further if you must admit that nothing we experience in this life is perfect, then you can not have any expectation of a certain behavior. You are the only thing that you can control. Therefore, you can only place an expectation of responsibility on yourself.
Strive for the truth and perfection that can only be achieved within. You will never be wronged or abused again if you understand that you choose to live this existence, and you must take responsibility for all the consequences of your choices.
Tim: I am going to kill you Xavier
Xavier: Why? Have I done something wrong?
Tim: No, I simply have no more use for you. I created you as a mask to hide behind when I was afraid that certain elements of my life might enter this place. I thought of it as a shrine, some place sacred that should remain untouched by sin if it had any hope of surviving. I used you because I am a coward.
Xavier: Then I must die because you are a coward?
Tim: You exist because I am a coward and now you will die because I am a coward.
Xavier: What justice is there in that? I am your creation. Don’t you love me?
Tim: There is no justice in what I do. I do this because it is necessary if I am to step into the light without fear. You confuse the status of my life. I can not love you individually, Xavier. You do not exist but as a projection of myself. I can only love you as I love myself. You see in this situation why you must die as you are. Think of it less as death and more as a reintegration with the whole in which you belong.
Xavier: Will there be pain?
Tim: There is no need for pain. You can simply disappear. I could have done that, but I decided to talk to you first. I suppose I retain some sentimentality for you.
Xavier: I would choose how I am to die then.
Tim: That seems fair. Is this something that you have thought about?
Xavier: Yes. I would like to go to a quiet place out in a forest or on a grassy hill. It should be far from where people are and preferably far from where they might discover me. I want to rest where I die eternally.
Tim: That is my dream, Xavier…
Xavier: Of course it is. I can not have dreams of my own, so I will take one of yours. Will you give this to me?
Tim: Yes…I suppose you would like the gun then.
Xavier: It is the only method that ever seemed proper. A blade is more intimate, but I could never imagine it happening any other way than with the gun. A quicker, violent end has the perfect amount of drama.
Tim: And, yet, there is no audience to appreciate it.
Xavier: An audience of one is sufficient. I have one more request.
Tim: What is it?
Xavier: I want to feel pain at the moment of death. It will make me feel as if I am real. It will make me feel as if I truly existed. If I can not have a true life, then let me have a true death.
Tim: Very well, Xavier. Here is your gun, and there is your hill. The sun is shining brightly and sweetly in the cerulean expanse. You must not forget the importance of fading in the light.
Xavier: I have not. I can’t bring myself to thank you. That would be dishonest. I want to say goodbye, though. I love you.
Tim: Tears. I don’t understand why I am crying.
Xavier: You weep only for yourself, my creator. Always for yourself…