Ashes Into The Wind

ashes

As I look back on the pages of my life,
and reminisce over the events that forged me into who I am today,
I am filled with sweet melancholy..
a bittersweetness that leaves me in a familiar yet distant place.

The tear-laced memories,
the distant sounds of laughter..
the warmth of gentle smiles..
all come together to form this compendium I now hold in my hands.

At times it feels so light..
and I wonder:
what have I done with my days?
these moments that are so fleeting..
what purpose have I fulfilled?
what lives have I touched..?

Other times I can barely hold it up
from the dense weight of its contents.
The lessons are what I try to carry with me;
though at times the weight seems daunting,
unbearable.

The pages of our lives don’t always turn so easily,
they sometimes prevent us from moving forward.

Sometimes
The past can be the most stubborn of barriers;
Pages like molten lava that solidify into obsidian
with its sharp edges and conchoidal fractures.

We try to climb over them,
under them,
through them…
tearing our flesh in the process
yet to no avail.

Like a cinder block tied to our feet
as we attempt to swim to shore;
it holds us stagnating;
and we know it is only a matter of time
before it pulls us down,
drowning into darkness.

And so we are left with no alternative —
but to burn those pages,
and blow the ashes into the wind.

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Waiting For Darkness

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Each night
I lay my head upon this pillow,
I am consumed by thoughts of you;
when you used to lie next to me,
your arm around my waist,
drawing me near..
Our hearts would find their rhythm
and beat as one.

Long moments later,
my eyes finally find their way
to that place of dark slumber;
where there is no pain,
no sorrow,
no missing you.

These days,
that side of the bed
is full of books,
and mementos,
and memories of you.
The chill in the air lingers,
and it takes longer to get warm..

Each night,
I patiently wait for darkness
to envelop me,
to warm me,
to soothe me..
like your arms once did.

I dream
the same dream every night..
I am in the ocean of your eyes,
standing upon its jagged rocks,
fighting the wind;
and I hold up a lantern,
in hopes that it may guide your way..
.. back.

I said to my soul,
be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing;

wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing;
there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.”
~ T.S. Eliot

First Love

“I used to build dreams about you”
~F.Scott Fitzgerald
first love 2

 

There is always something special and unforgettable
about that first time we fell in love –
something that remains deep within us
as we journey on through our lives;
something we never let go of.
If you ever had the occasion to re-meet a past, first love –
you will most likely be hit with the realization that
not only is he/she a different person,
but that you are also a very different person
in relation to them.

Because it is not the ‘person’ we remember necessarily;
but the feeling we had,
the loving fully and being loved in return,
the innocence of first love when betrayal never entered our thoughts,
the utter belief that we were in total control of our destiny..
the KNOWING that we were going to be happy for the rest of our lives,
and the faith that love could conquer all.
We felt everything more acutely,
our joys and our sorrows,
because we didn’t have anything to compare them to.
Everything was a first.

But Life teaches us otherwise.

And despite all of life’s trials,
and all of love’s lessons,
those old memories remain.
They are reminders of a simpler, happier time
when we held the world in our hands
and hopeful innocence in our hearts.
It carries with it a subtle lingering sadness..
because we know it is something
we can never get back…

… despite our efforts as we keep trying.
first love 3