Egocentricity

One day this will all be a memory
Beyond all the day to day of today
Into the everlasting
Forgetting all the pain
The misery
Releasing into the mist
Floating into the consciousness
Of everything

One day this will be over
The striving to be happy
Always seeking more
The disappointment
When it never comes
Driven by hope to continue on
Into the unknown
Enduring the mundane
Of the passing moment
The miracle of simply being
Within a world burning with desire
Ever discontent
With the state of thing

One day I will rest easy
No weight
No burdens
Of the flesh
The body
Holding me down
Free to explore
Life as it was meant to be
Away from the madness
Of the seemingly endless
Human conflict
Even from those who seem to seek peace
Even from those who claim
To be of a God of love
Even from those
Who try so hard to be good
Without knowing if it is bad
Walking blindly
Desperately seeking anything
Grasping at the soil
As gravity pulls them down
Refusing to look beyond
The world they have been taught
Once finding comfort from
To realize
There is an entire universe
Beyond
The the simplicity of human perspective
Sadly
Instilled in our genes
The obsessive
Compulsive
Instinctive
Even overpowering
Need to think only of “Me.”

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Within Your Eyes

I thought I had lost everything in this life. The passion to go on into the dreams that matter to me. Beyond the superficial entities crying out for attention to their products to fulfill their worldly desires.

The feelings of love that I’ve always cherished. Love beyond the laws of physical needs and expectations. Love that flows through the heart with grand and intense intimacy. Showing me what is real, rather than the fantasies portrayed in hopes I will believe in things that simply don’t exist, at least in my heart.

One look into your eyes brought everything to life. As if passing through the decades and falling into the innocence of the one I once was while a child trying to find my way in the harsh and brutal world of judgement based on image in the early progression of the propaganda seeking to find it’s way into my soul, seeking to purchase my heart in exchange for plastic formations brought about by machines.

Their attempts never took hold. They tried and tried to convince me of a life that simply didn’t matter to me. Something within me couldn’t give in to their persistent insistence that I conform to become what is expected in the eyes of the artificial insinuations that become stronger and stronger each day in it’s quest to dominate, not the body, but the heart and soul. Expecting complete commitment and loyalty to a law that has no value except in the containment of the human spirit. Satisfying those of the empty hearts who seek only the superficial to provide them with their purpose and meaning.

How can you reveal in me the truth that has always remained hidden in the oppression of societal interference into my life. Having to pretend to be what I am certainly not. Doing so failingly due to my weak disposition to the truth.

I am an artist. A writer. I am an expressionist. No matter what I do, where I live, who I am around, I will be expressive. It confuses some people. Others simply disregard it. Still others condemn expression as being something to be avoided at all cost, even judged to oppress it back into the corners of the consciousness where it cannot be seen or heard. It is a battle but one can only persist into the unknown realms that have been deemed forbidden. Into the heart of the self and the world of our interconnection. Beyond the physical aspirations and desires.

Yes, just one gaze into your eyes brought to life the world alive within me.

The Garden

They walked hand in hand across a bridge while admiring the flowers of the garden beneath the warm Spring sun radiating upon the Earth as the life absorbed it into their being, causing them to rise in worship.

They stood a moment on the little bridge, her eyes lit by all the color and beauty that surrounded them. He looked at her face, watching every movement and gesture, an almost childlike curiosity combined with a womanly wisdom caused him to smile as he admired her.

She ran down the other side and onto the grass, stooping to examine the flowers more closely. She placed the petals between her fingers as she looked at every detail closely. She seemed to be experiencing some deep connection with the nature around, causing him to wonder if what she perceived was the same as what he perceived.

As he approached, he admired her hair as it flowed over her shoulders. The various shades of color, each strand seemed to have a personality of it’s own. He watched as she crouched down and then crawled around to each flower as if experiencing the personality of each one and absorbing it into herself.

He crouched down along side of her and put his hand on her hand, touching the flower along with her as if to try to experience what she was experiencing. See what she was seeing. Feel what she was feeling.

Then he looked to her face, the light artificial color on her cheeks and eyes which seemed to raise the features of her face into a bloom much like the flowers. Captivated by every pore, every blemish, experiencing every stroke of the brush of artwork she had performed on herself that morning as he waited on the couch.

She turned and smiled as she saw him admiring her. He blushed and turned his face when he knew he had been caught in the act. She put her hand on his cheek and pulled his eyes back in her direction. He couldn’t help but smile as her radiant smile seemed to penetrate beyond his vision and into his heart. She gazed confidently into his eyes where he could feel her examining his soul.

It was then that he realized what how she perceived the flowers. Much as she was perceiving him at that moment. For an instant he felt like nothing more than a curiosity, shy and afraid to be examined in such a way. Then, as their eyes met in deep gaze within, he felt the shared experience of love as it passed between them, within them, fertilizing the heart with a beauty and truth beyond words.

At that moment he was hers. No other need look into his eyes with such penetrating power, exploring his entire being, adding her touch to the rooms of his heart while taking nothing but what she most needed, his love in return.

Into The Heart

Sorrow flooded his mind as the rain filled the streets outside. Staring through the streams of water passing across the window into the dim dusk light into the worlds of others doing their daily tasks in cubicles called home. Deep within his own thoughts, his mind tortured by the loss of the one he loved.

Feeling such loneliness as he grasped his stomach rumbling from days without food, taking a sip of water and a shot of whiskey that no longer numbed his body and mind but offered a general relief from his grief, only temporary.

Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep he drowned in his misery. Desperately seeking any reason for hope within the bleakness that filled his existence. At times gasping for air as if at times forgetting to breathe. His heart palpitating then calming as he inhaled deeply and released slowly, repeating.

He looked at his phone to see no one has called. Not a text to be read. Where were his friends? His family? He felt lost, wanting to reach out yet not wanting to burden the world with his own pain. Knowing there was nothing anyone else could do, no matter their intentions. Something’s had to be faced alone, especially if he were follow his considerations of taking his own life to ease the pain.

Then he thought, “What would that solve? I could end the pain but at what cost? Life is pain interrupted by moments of joy and pleasure. Like watching TV where the commercials are interrupted by a few minutes of entertainment.”

A slight smile appeared after this thought. She always enjoyed his cynicism of the society. Not a dark cynicism. Merely observations from another perspective of which even he himself didn’t understand the origins.

This caused the memories to change from the those lifeless eyes and the tear soaked grass at the cemetery. The many people who came to pay last respects to her while giving him little consolation or understanding. Causing him to feel even more deeply alone in his sorrow.

His memories instead turned to those of the acceptance she had given him. The love she had so openly shared with him giving him no choice but to love her back with openness and trust, something that didn’t come easily to him.

He glanced up to the window to see the moonlight revealed as the curtain of clouds parted. Hearing the steady drip of the water from the roofs of the buildings about, he opened the window to let in the cool, clean air, taking in deep breaths. As he inhaled deeply he felt his heart filling with the love she gave to him. The love that he treasured more than life itself.

He had no desire to love another. There was no reason for his life had been completed through their passion conjoined, radiating a light to the world of a love unseen, misunderstood by others, privately held within their own hearts. Together they lived a joy they only knew. One that did not resemble the world around. She, rebelling against the conformity she had been raised with. He, lost in the freedom that had been thrust upon him, not knowing what to do with it. Often times merely wasting it. Together they became a life for each other.

It had been many weeks since the funeral and since he had gone out into the world. Locking himself away in the little place he called home. Locking himself away within his mind, his heart tight and closed, empty of feeling. Void of warmth.

As the night progressed he felt a desire to return to the strange life that existed in the streets below. To smile again at the passersby. Strangers only in name and lives currently lived. Brothers and sisters beyond the needs and fears for the flesh. Beyond the images placed within their minds through many years of societal programming telling us all that we are separate, individual, strangers of each other to be feared.

Lying back upon the bed, he fell into a deep sleep and into dreams bright and filled with life. Waking for a moment within the night he felt his heart fill with the love he had forgotten within his grief. He felt her presence within him as if her blood of life flowed with his own. At that moment he knew he would never be alone.

I Would Love You If I Could

I would always love you if I could. But I’m a mere mortal, frail and weak, tormented and traumatized by this life. I have no desire to be with another. My weakness is within. I can’t give you the dreams you so desire. The image of a man that you hold within your mind, seeking deep love and trust that goes beyond any mortal man. I want to give you all that you desire. If I could, I would give my life to fulfill your deepests wishes of this life. My life would not be enough compensation to the fates to change their minds.

I adore your beauty, your words, thoughts and dreams. I could listen to you describe them for all eternity if not for dividing forces of this life which take my attention to other things beyond that of the divine within you. Those precious moments within your arms as your voice sings your imagination into my mind. My heart. Giving to me your most intimate feelings in a trust that I can’t possibly uphold. Though I will try.

I love you in this moment, more than I have loved anyone or thing. Nothing comes before you and nothing after this will ever be the same. I wish this moment could last forever or that I could die and not have to continue without it. But tomorrow will come. Change is inevitable. What is special in this moment will become a memory. A memory held in high regard.

Then their are those moments that tarnish such moments as this. When I can’t uphold the image, the dream of your desires and you lash out at me, telling me what I am, weak, worthless, nothing because I can’t provide you what you so desire. I will cry when I hear these words.

I will try to reach back in time to this special moment as something to hold on to. But it won’t be there. Not as it was then nor in my memory before all transpired. I am a victim of my feelings which affect my perspective. With each change comes a new image, changing past memories as well as future dreams. Our interactions in joy and in suffering, change the way we feel from moment to moment.

This is why I say, I would love you if I could but I’m a mere mortal, frail and weak.

In The Arms Of Another

The moon beamed full filling the clear sky. An occasional rogue cloud passed by obscuring the light, but for a moment. The air, cool and still, heavy with humidity biting the flesh covered by many garments. A heavy, rapid clip clop beat upon the sidewalk, a painful running found the stairs and came to a stop at the door.

She desperately searched her purse for the keys. Once found she attempted to open the door only to drop them. Tears filled her eyes, mascara smeared, cheeks pale and pained.

She grasped for the keys several times, each time frustrated in the darkness, simply wanting to feel the warmth of home both physically and emotionally.

Placing the keys in the lock and turning quickly she burst through the door, dropping her coat and purse to the floor in a rapid disrobe, she fell upon her bed, burying her head into the pillow.

Memories filled her mind, images passing so quickly and, as each passed it tore deeply as if something was ripping her a part from the inside. The happy moments they experienced together. The sad times they faced together. The pain they felt together, their arms embracing each other, bodies intertwined, feeling the connection of togetherness. Or so she thought.

Her love, all the intimacy of her heart had been betrayed. Along with the images of past experiences, flashed of the present, or near present ripped even more deeply within. She could literally feel her heart ripping, not in two but in many pieces.

His arms around another woman, their lips tightly pressed together, his hands exploring her body, no longer hers to experience. Blinded by love she didn’t see it coming. Those last moments of being in his arms she had no idea that it would be the last.

Her sorrow turned to anger as the pain ripped ever so much deeper into her heart. Thoughts of vengeance filled her mind. She wanted to hate him with all her might, but she couldn’t. Even though her love had been betrayed it wasn’t in her to hate anyone. She didn’t want to hate anyone. Yet, here she was, hating with a fierceness she had never felt before.

She hated the the woman whom he now embraced rather than her. She hated love for tearing her heart into shreds. She hated him, for deceiving her. Playing with her emotions and feelings. Holding her while, at the same time, holding another in his heart. Such deep betrayal. She hated her own loyalty. Her own needs and desires to experience love.

She fell into an empty sleep. Void of dreams. Into a deep darkness. An emptiness of feeling and life. Suddenly she woke to the sun radiating through the window. Her body tight and pained, arms held tightly to her chest. Her mind numb to the glory of a new day.

For a moment she thought it all a dream. She looked for her phone to see the goodnight text that had always been there for many months to be displayed. She burst from her bed, searching for her purse. She dumped out everything to the floor, seeing her phone lying there. She hesitated a moment then quickly grabbed it. There was no text. She felt such a deep loneliness. An emptiness so deep filled only with pain. The pain of nothingness.

She layed on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Not seeing anything but the many images passing through her mind. Over and over these images repeated themselves as the pain dug even deeper within to places she never thought existed. Tears flowed in a seemingly endless stream down her cheeks, onto her neck, upon her chest.

She gasped for air. Breathing deeply, seeking a calm within the storm. Seeking some sense of reality in the chaos of her emotions. She stepped outside, inhaled deeply thinking, “This is not who I am. I am better than this. How could I have let myself fall so deeply into an illusion of my ow creation?” She slapped her face several times, “Wake up. Come out of it.”

The images in her mind slowed and were replaced with clarity of who she is. Looking into the mirror, at first she felt disgust which turned into compassion for herself. She fell in love. Into the depths of the abyss of her own illusion and expectations. Now she saw something more in the blue eyes that looked back at her. She looked deeply into them. Into herself as color began to fill her cheeks. As life began to fill her eyes. She could feel her empty heart again fill with life. Tears of understanding slowing passed from her eyes, finding their way down her cheeks.

She smiled as she felt the blood of her life fill within her again while forgiving herself for the dreams and illusions she had put so much faith and hope within. Stories created to stimulate the senses while deceiving the mind, heart and soul. Of passion expressed safely within the confines of trust and loyalty.

This is not life. Nothing is perfect in this life but the understanding that we live each day as it forms before our eyes. Nothing is safe. Nothing controlled. Our quest for security in the arms of another can never be known or felt without allowing the embrace of ourselves around our own hearts. It is the love of our hearts, free flowing beyond expectations, that brings our truth to light. Revealing the beauty, often unexpected, that resides within us all.

In The Mirror

An old man wakes to see the sunrise. Just one of many in his time here. Rolling out from underneath the old dusty, dirty blankets. Remnants of a life once lived that continue to keep him warm on those cool days beneath the stars within the firmament above. The roof over his head. A memory of all the hard work he once had given to a society that now disregards him.

He stands to greet the day. Coughs and spits the phlegm within his throat, casting it to the ground, absorbing into the soil. Through reddened eyes and wrinkled skin he feels the world around as eyes of others avoid making contact as they pass in bodies diseased by the demands of the life they believe makes one worthy to be alive. Time and suffering has numbed him to such vanity as they portray in their disgust of his being.

He smiles. Again, coughs and spits, then begins his search for sustenance to help him find his way to another day. Just as they did in another time. In another life. Before comfort became the calamity of humanity. The desperation of desire before understanding. Individual freedom over the well being of the world.

The drive to gain, not progress into the future. Growth based on the mutual funds and the numbers ever changing as the stock market controls the aspirations of many as they pursuit freedom through wealth. Believing that power comes from monetary acquisition. Desperately pursuing, gasping to contain control over others to fill the lack of control they have over themselves. Fill the lack of love they have within themselves. Believing all their emotional needs can be fulfilled through attainment.

He walked into a park. Sat down on a bench. Watched all the people rushing to and fro from place to place. Exchanging plastic and paper for things they don’t need. Looking down to the gather pigeons, he tossed the rest of rest of his sandwich and watched them feed seeing himself in the nature of it all. Nothing more. Nothing less.

A part of a eternal universe, his spirit always free though temporarily held within the prison of the body and the judgement of the fools that pass him by, afraid to see that before them, in this old body with reddened eyes and wrinkled skin, is their reflection in the mirror of reality. Thus they turn away.