My goal is to describe something…

That is impossible to understand…

Until the word is given…

Which of course, you would have to ask for…

 : The deep unfaltering gift given to those fortunate. Naturally, what is consumed, is let go of much slower. Like your first story worth telling. it enters with a freezing temptation to hold on, and leaves with the warm glow of the desert heat. The two emotions, mixed in everlasting harmony, pull-push, open close. So beautiful, it is almost always overlooked. Yet, it is always understanding. Giving so much, yet requiring only little, it’s something indescribable. Yet…. so apparent. Yet… you never think about it….

When you visualize a memory of, or just imagine a plausible, shooting star. What moves? Does the shining darkness fade with the glow of what speeds through the sky, or does it glow with the fading of what is perfectly immobile. Do we revolve past an unmoving phenomenon, something that is fantastically silent in stillness. An oil painting of the sky, where all colors move, except that one shooting star. Are we the intruders upon a peaceful univerise, of colors we could never hope to imagine existed. So beautiful, so quiet, so flamoyantly humble, that we cannot ever hope to see. Next time you see a shooting star, maybe if you could slow down, it would last forever.

Hooking onto telephone poles and playing with loaded wires. Collecting miles of string, to connect our empty cans. When the space between is only no more than near, farther than, no more than what I fear- will never be. Why shout, when a whisper catches a tear. Why tear, when what could be is so … right here. Making this a long distance relationship when given all the ability to attempt otherwise. Why wish you’d see the flare of my shooting star, when I could hold them all still in my palm. Look into my eyes, and tell me why you’re farther than near.

Thoughts that quell my spirit and mind, yet in turn jeopardize your ability to cognate my reality. Circular mazes that end only with surrender, guarded by mirrors and flashing lights. Your guesses useless, because the truth can never be discovered without the help of the creator, sort of like attempting to build an ark without God’s blueprints. No one could ever understand, unless they asked for my reasoning.

I’ve always wondered why I’m afraid to write something that doesn’t have a hidden meaning, I publish enigmas, and strive on riddles because… they offer unfaltering protection. No one could ever understand, unless they asked for my reasoning.

    (o)(o)(o)(o)
    ( ^_^ )(>_<)
    (oo)(oo)(oo)(oo)

Rainbow anchored to us.

The game ends in a stalemate. To officiate the ability to initiate, silently await, the lonely bait. Watching intently, a person frustrate, when all he needed was an ego inflate. Because given the chance to orate, he offered something that would pulsate. He was destructive for a lightweight, no one could hear his throat vibrate and yet still remain an ingrate. He played for his teamate, rowed for his shipmate, and wrote for his classmate. Can you possibly relate, to his altruism without the requirement for a nameplate on his breastplate? Because it was clearly a checkmate!

Remember the sacrifices made, so that their earnings are everlasting. Remember the conviction offered by a man who felt the tyranny of discrimination. In his memory, and all those who gave limb and heart to the pursuit of grandeur in justice. To the reconstruction of the word justice, by deeds unmatched by any in our time, let us not forget the passion of our spirits. Cheers.

The hustled flow of car lights on a freeway filled with silent honks and deserted minds. Immovable in sad reflection of the road chosen, and the unpleasant wait in a scene no less forgiving. Given the chance to reverse the trivial idea of something known as time, measurable only in memories and the degradation of our youth. In the near-sighted possibility, I would drive a route less taken. In the quite larger picture, I wouldn’t change anything, because a desperate change in any-thing could lead to a paradoxical difference in every-thing. Gain monetary fortunes and an abundance of other trivial lotteries in return for the loss of ability, a destruction of myself beyond a three dimensional perception. So the cloaks of my eyes open to see a shade of what could have been, yet strong sounds fill the smog beyond the broken glass of my car. Sounds that pause before entering, to respect that of which I could not have had if I did reverse the measurable, time. I grasp her limp hand tightly as she dreams motionless to herself, beside me, yet within me.

Would like to hold and embrace the oncoming chance, but one can only do so much before wet hands give way to another fall.