A Guiding Light

"Bed darkness for understanding and in the morning it will be transformed to light..." -AiGe

Apply the following to all walks of life:

Do not jump at shadows, instead watch them for better understanding.

Enjoy all food. Eat whatever you want, but only when you're hungry, and stop when you are full.

Always help where you can.

Get rid of all trash properly.

Seek to make art daily.

Exercise daily.

Reach out to a different person daily so that you might know them better, but first tear down your own wall so that others can reach out to you.

Always be honest, respectful, and kind to the world around us.

Always forgive yourself your vices, but strive to make one small step every day towards overcoming them.

Apologize as needed, but apologize for nothing heedlessly.

Ask questions and observe carefully as answers are presented in mysterious, and various, ways.

Always listen, and decide for yourself what the best course will be.

Accept the things you do not understand and live with them peaceably.

Love your body and treat it well.

Love the things you have and treat them well.

Treat all things well.

Love life.

Love for the simple fact of loving.

Be proud of everything you decide to do.

Violet

Sea foam crashes against shores beneath violent tinted skies, and lightning breaks the moon dancing violet, jagged lines against the horizon. Spectators marvel at the sight; the world so round and intricate, a giant sphere of life singing and sloshing and twisting and turning. Colors bound to face so gray. Smeared and vibrant. The world hums and buzzes, a breath of fresh air. Rain drops patter gently through canopy leaves as wind sways the strong, and beneath, the thirsty drink behind their smiles.

Knowing When to Give Up

Communication fails. Thoughts turn inward upon themselves, devour words. Questions fall from swollen tongues, unasked. Who needs the trouble? Take the magic dots. Let reality alter itself. Let go of everything. Say nothing. Say nothing, say nothing...

Tearing Up

We weren't kicked out of Eden, we've been living in it this whole time, but through our greed and our hate we have fallen. Our eyes have turned and become blind. People drive cars across streets black, dotted-yellow, and red. Stained by the blood of creatures we have made prematurely dead. While crude oil spills into our sea unheeded, because we thought these machines were sorely needed. Trees felled, cut, and eyes swelled shut.
Oh, the tears, our world is crying. Oh, the tears we left in dying.

Burned Out.

It's taking forever. This candle burns, but there is no light from the flame. Only intensity. Cupped hands recoil, flex as wax sears intricate rivulet patterns through fingers. You cannot hold this.

It's taking forever. Passion burns and fizzles out while new ideas and new hopes give way to reason. Lost souls turn to lost minds as hands are forced into the fire, desperately seeking to feel the warmth, they wrap arms around and graciously accept the blistering pain, convinced there is no difference. You cannot hold this.

It's taking forever. Intensity turns you away from gazing at the sun, its presence felt, but too much to bear. Like this burning candle that screams and sears and melts its trace through your fingers, into darkness, and leaves you, wishing you could have held it.

The Siren Sung

Shut in, shut out, shut off,
Those lonely hearts with hands outstretched that call for help.
Watch them dragging others in with their descent.
Sweet Sirens' song makes sailors' bitter end.

Shut in, shut down, shut up,
Those lovely voices scream nothing far too loud.
Watch them giving in.
Sweet Sirens' song makes sailors' bitter end.

Picked up, picked apart, put down,
Those puzzled pieces left no one can ever fit.
Watch them drowning in the red.
Sweet Siren's song makes sailors' bitter end.

Pieces scattered, chewed apart,
gasping on the blood-stained rocks,
Watch them drowning in the red.
The Siren sung--the sailor's dead.

6/2/10

Ice Cold Thaw

It was January and the world outside was dead. Patches of sludgy snow still remained in spots along the streets, where the plows had come through. Trees were naked and bowing in the wind, above the muddy, brown grasses. That day, someone had removed the pure white, blanket by simply increasing the temperature.

"I don't think it really matters anymore," she said, holding the door aloft and staring through him with her ice blue eyes that refused to thaw. The bitterness of the wind outside ripped into the house and stole away the warmth. Her tone was flat and guarded.

He envisioned the dam breaking, and in his mind words rushed forward to quell the tide that was drowning the two of them. Not just any words, but the right ones, the ones that said "yes, of course it matters," and proceeded to explain exactly why. The words that could pick up all the pieces between them and make a beautiful fit.

Of course, a lump formed in his throat, and all he could think was despite the frosty, gusting winds and frigid temperatures, outside the snow still melted where it met the sun.

But there was no sun here, and she continued to stare with her frozen gaze that would not be bent. She stared long after, even, his heart had melted and formed thick, oily puddles in the snow-sludged lawn.

For a moment, he was a tree, naked, bemused, and sturdy against the wind, but hers was a gaze that refused to thaw, even after he was gone and she sealed the doors behind him.