The Times
Newspaper and holy text of all-
I am here and so are you. WHo are you? I have not one clue. Let me though take this off my chest and share it with you. Solitude. Dylan my friend said something about a game. I am joking there was never a Dylan other than the one in Turin all the way from Argentina. Let me just. Tell you. Once upon a time I used to. Nowadays. I try.
Take into consideration. When all is in motion and emotive disposition, within pur head we try to behave or believe or something that can invite a sort of haze but what if it is real? I mean.
I look around and sometimes do not see but not today. Today I see. Someone in the same pain. Aim. Game. Life, tragedy. Tell you I must of where I come from but words will not suffice for I am still in search of a way to do the justice for my sake. Of those days not much different from today but nostalgic still in a wave. Washing over the day.
Maybe there is not much choice?
I realize I try to look for empathy in the most unusual faces. Finally I see them who sit on the floor or lurk in the corners ( that’s a made up one right there the last touch) the ones who dress a bit quirky almost out of place. Look closer I did and I saw them having what I yearn to desire for myself. A family. No, that I have but maybe, but maybe you get the point?
The wind takes us, or we stay put. Hear hear. Maybe I’ve been looking at places and not seeing where my gaze. Falls upon yet again lost in my thoughts. I have this instinct pulling me away but towards where? Until I find my home.
Just let me. We used to play games. I and my friends. I attained them over time. A family to envy. One I chose from everyone around. The kids they play and I was one. One was another one and also another one was there. Now I write about it but then surely mìnot much was different regarding the exiistence and feelings that come with it resembling distaste. Maybe I have to learn more of gratitude in order to be inhabiting it for my benefit. Say if I must dare that there was a wave of some sort. I found myself in array and stressed my wake when I could have would have should have. Anyway.
Now I miss those friends. Them who make life bearable. I pretend I have one but really I wonder if he just hides from me. To say that perhaps a boy of this land cannot and will not understand. I have to try to see. Who I really am. And I do. In the faces of those who beg, who tell, sing or write. Those who try to but not whip around what they do not have. Perhaps I have been doing it all wrong. Call a little grace in now. But maybe. I have not the face to pretend it’s all right.
Say let me but ask.
——
Context:
I saw a dance today. Exhaustion and the resistance.
Why do We Write?
Sharing stories has long in time been a service to the art in mind. One of mine and two of thine. Can’t you see the sun is arise. I have to meet somewhat larger than feat a troublesome friend indeed. Can’t you hear the calls are mere but a roar in heed. Heathens sake. Are you even awake? Or is this but a dream in quarantines shake.
One reads and dreams and shakes and comes back where the field is but ready to retell. If one hasn’t yet read and they would like for you to tell. Oh my. Someone is cooking dessert. I remember.
School was but a feast. My books in hand and stories from tongue. Game at last and begin your task. I would and could nay should but only would. The woodpecker sighs. Finally. The bell chimes.
There is but space and time for mine.
The Blue Genie
If you’ve enjoyed my demonstration/ performance, you can subscribe through god almighty the blue genie amongst the clouds. He will then contact my friends through the night when they shine the brightest and they shall know how to reach me the invitation of interest. I thank you for your attention and bid you a wonderful night.
I Think You Might Be Working Harder Than Me
An anecdote of troublesome
And so I cannot always fathom what is obtrusive. When one is guided by hand and commanded by mind where would a temptation be calling upon?
Let’s get dirty, or not. The heart often leads the path. In my experience not much is different than a simple task when the bell rings downside. Am I making myself any clear or is it understatement what I depict in fear. Needless to say is not much but to be honest. I felt it. How rough.
Shifting attention from the strangely explained for the time being.
Would it surprise the reader to find out this is a piece about remorse and the desire to treat a loved one better.
Is an apology enough when an error has been made in speech. Would silence and distance conduct further peace, than dealing with a compromise?
I raise my white flag and guess so. When I can sense so deep I’ll study why I have been so stubborn to deny this understanding towards YOU
As Simple As A Game
Magic, have you ever seen the dust sparkle? Do you often complain about economics, politics or another made up thing that can cause problems. Look, this is about to get serious. Bla. So before we lose it I will have to say a few words. When one refuses to indulge in a seemingly innocent act of play does one refuse shame, ridicule or themselves. A good time is defined by taste but it is had in company more often than not.
To truly embody the realization of pleasing but oneself. Is only a non frequent lesson to be learned on special occasions. I would assume such a generalization. Do you like numbers?
Because whether you count out loud or not, someone is always seeking and someone hiding.
Oder doch?
True Love’s Kiss
I had thought once upon a time… The sensation of stopping time. Here I go. On the trapeze there is a moment, called the apex, the dead point, zero point however you may call it many names it beholds. I call it stopping time. It is where one is weightless and however present you are is how much you feel it. Back to topic. I thought by studying physics and understanding the mechanics I could equate it. Not that moment, surely that moment has already been equated with given figures under a certain definition tied to mathematics and a ‘law’ of physics of some sorts. Let me indulge by stating here that I have seen angles where gravity is defied by the contra force required through adaptable gains and a motion range of achieving that rhythm without going into space or even perhaps operating an instrument. Let’s get ourselves back to pace. Human is capable of much more than what the race defines or allows within perceptive reach. Even animating objects through transfer of energy. It’s all magic. You see. Something unknown, something missed. I realized I must have it, find it. I would locate that which I have seen, felt or noticed. A calling perhaps. And then we kissed… I jumped ahead. Let me trace back and bring us ahead. So I thought to write this magic in equation to prove to the entire world and all those lacking curiosity that cannot fully support see for their own that anything is possible especially and including, highlight the surreality: magic. I started my search through another lead I got a hold of from a younger age. I came to a day where I was confronted by how well it would do to in fact equate magic since it is the scarcity, the fact that it is not often explained is what makes it such undefined beauty of life. I have to say. I met someone along the way, who supported my search even without having heard the whole story. He held my hand and looked me in the eyes with the softest gaze. That day I had made a wish. He found me. I think now and realize in some way that it is this magic I had wished to write down, the intangible connection between woman and man dare I say for it is so in my case. A romance. I could not see that before my eyes this magic I was looking to define in an explicable way. Is in fact a kiss. A single touch of the lips.
Mirror Mirror On The Wall
Tell me I’m the fairest of them all.
On an on. I try to make it work, bend it my way. I forget as long as it’s a mirror in front of me I will only ever see what I choose to show as my face.
Unclarity meets freedom. I have some words but I will bare them.
What is a clock that ticks with sand work? Patience my little one. Stop trying to look so young.
Vom Glück Begüngstigt
Dear Stranger I met twice,
I had not expected to meet you. To say the least. I would go on about my dreams but I would rather live them out with you if you know what I mean.
I would list the things I have and what I do not, could then be seen. I would rather just hold your hand. We would then walk and or talk. Depending on where we land our feet, you would then see for yourself what is there and what is to build.
I am emotional when I type, I would have not guessed that I would be doing this just as such but if it works. I mean if I reach you and you want to talk too. Then I would consider myself as lucky as a girl can be to have found a prince.
All of my love,
Lara
Temple
It’s quite late.
I wouldn’t believe it.
Hear my concern. I say.
Wouldn’t I owe it to you, myself and everyone surround to make stage. Is it that I do not like it on display. That I am uncomfortable with the way or is it that it is not for me this that I have so convinced myself that I can be. Am I merely pretending or trying to become one I am not? For the first time in my life. I met somebody I love, romantically I mean. I can love. Want to love. Somebody I wouldn’t have even dared to dream of. I remember the moment, the realization, the way it felt so untrue how such a miracle had found me at last right at my worst, my best. My dream, everything and none of it.
Every chance I get I dive into what I am not, because of this left within me. This to be staged. I wonder if it is true, my pursuit of the craft. I mean to say. Wouldn’t I owe it to you and to me? To give it all I’ve got if I deemed it worthy at one point even more so than seeing your face?
I breathe deep and I see it had been mostly all in my mind. It works. I feel united, I can play. I would not do it over and over again because I feel it is silly. I for one am sensitive and I have not forgiven the memory. The memory of me, adapting to a role and playing it as if it were me. I cannot forgive how utterly horrifying it had made me feel to experience happenings I had yet to live.
I have many stories and many of them I cannot entirely see whether I am to tell, write or sing. I can act it out and play it on stage but doesn’t that make me a sacrificial sake. I say I can but could I really? I mean, would I? I wonder if I can. Make a change and hurry back to my cage without tasting this path I feel or believe I have yet to chase, embark on I shall with everything I have got. The blood and the sweat and all of that I dared to waste. Show everyone my face and how I can contort it. When I want to be the one with the story to tell. Can I work on it in the same way? I want to be on stage but the story and how it presents matters most to me. Should I then cast this dream away?
Do you see how I dare not for I could have seen your face. Yes you. I don’t know you quite so well. I remember your memory. How it makes me feel. I am hooked on it although it is not such a wide space. My special one had always been my craft, my stage.
It feels almost as if I can’t have it all. For when I am on stage I am the lover of all. If I write though, and craft a way… It is me, truly as I am and can be. There to reach my hand towards…
I have to try, with all I have but climbing towards the top what is lost cannot be lost twice. You are out of sight and I must but understand if it is truly what I want what I have been after all along.
I miss you. Can you feel the space?
How many of you are awake?
It’s quite early in some place.
The Cave
It appears strange to me. I find I have a flame in me. At times lit for a face familiar to my gaze and at times just lighting the hollow.
Es seht so
Drinnen Ich habe ein licht
Manchmal ein gesicht, dass ich kenne
Und wenn nicht das bedeutet ich habe mehr platz als ich dachte
She was walking softly. Her footsteps were feline like. No one could hear other than the bottom of her foot.
The sound of the wind against the flame made a clear woosh. Tiny sparkles of fiery dust swiveled with the pull until disappearing into clarity- her movements were rhythmic and her heartbeat followed suit. There was an ease in her direction even if it wasn’t so well lit around her figure. Her feet felt the rough surface and foresaw what ground would move below. Her breathing was collected. The air she breathed out came out as mellow smoke. She was all alone in her walk, it would seem so if looked in from the outside. There was no way to peek inwards and see her roam with all the creatures of the dark. Keeping to her wave, sound afloat.
Testing 1-2
It’s working.
As time goes on we get to observe how the fruits of what we want the most come alive. Of course there are times we choose whether or not some of our decisions were in our best interest or just ambitiously out of sense.
Either way.
What you work on will become better.
Your truth is seldom to be argued with and people. Well kindness goes a long way and some stories will never end and some of them will come to begin. A cycling circle to resolve the thick clots, like trauma to be picked up from within the drain. The wires that pump the blood that which gives energy to us I mean the veins.
Much to do with confidence and even more so about time. Funny the dimension we live on can change depending on how much we’ve willed to become or be gone.
I have to be honest some losses confuse me and some actions fit just right but in the end it won’t matter until the fight.
What matters most is drawn out.
Let me demonstrate with an imaginary toll here and there following is a story of horror, beware if you cannot dare…
She walked in.
The tiles cold beneath her feet. Her hand reached towards her back. Unzipping the dress tightly fitting her body. The dress drops beneath her figure right by her ankles and her hair brushes her waist tingling her skin as she steps out of the fabric binding the ghost of her next step. She looks at the mirror and rubs on the black beneath her eyes.
—- you have to know now I am a bit weary, talking these words, putting them in writing. One must be careful about what is spoken or written down. But know now that I have carried these within for years around. Some stories are worth more than words and so shall be lived or even played out but bare with me when I write this particular one that had me question a whole lot. —-
Her finger now black with the paint and the moist of her teary sweat. She dropped her head down and let out a sound. Just on time to mask the loud thump outside the bathroom door. Her body had grown and a second glance into the mirror there was no black around her eyes nor a dress by her ankles. Just the tears and a thump unheard was around.
When I sing today…
Jasmine
Could have been.
Dreaming, thinking, almost feeling but not really sensing. Today I want to talk about lions.
The fierce ones, the predators, the honorable, the strong, the kind, the compassionate, the leader, the lover and the passionate.
There has been many a lions I have had the pleasure of meeting in my life.
Sometimes I remember this one. Inspiring it was. An encounter. For the least it changed my life. Not for the best perhaps but definitely one to commemorate. I beg your pardon. The one who listens deep into my heart for any misjudgement, or any wording that is off accuracy to my true being is merely out of theatrics I owe to my craft, and perhaps a bit of residue craze.
I saw him, we were introduced. Brought together by an artist as artists I hope. I thought what a clown this dude. He was in fact a clown. Identified himself as one too.
We talked for hours, spitting back and forth like a tap running on and on.
I woke up the next morning and he was staring at my face. It must’ve been a while I thought. Mere coincidence doesn’t just take place. He confessed that he had in fact been watching my slumber as I slept for two hours into our promised date. Breakfast. He cared not for it by the time I was ready. We walked nonetheless. Talked. Ate soup, ran an errand. I listened to his songs and he breathed fire to all that had wronged. I thought: it must be a problem, how angry he seems. Burning himself through the lava he blurts. I understand, I thought. It made sense. I felt, this must be what metaphysical means. All those stories I heard, all those times I thought; I am all alone and finally I was alongside one who just made sense.
I hope today the fact that I think so means just that it wasn’t as such as I thought but merely one from my world.
Today I want to talk about lions.
The moonlight draws me closer.
The Things
So good is the morning.
Watching the wind blow, hearing the sun shine. I sit alone and glance ahead. The sea is in a wave and the foam reminds me of the pearl. I look at my hand and rub at my fingers. I lower my head and feel the defeat weigh on my heart above my shoulders. I shiver the shake a way and release my fears. I have no place to be sad about the things I can change. I put my hands together and look up to the skies, I pray: Time, I say… Please stay on my side. A tear washes down my cheek and my throat thickens. I wipe the tear away before sucking it in. I slowly trace my steps upwards and find myself on my two feet. I am standing. I have to stay still, I remember against the fear how I slept away into dreamland everyday. I feel my foot drag before me and my leg follows and so does my hip. I thrust my chest forwards and stumble a step ahead. If there was some music accompanying my stance I am sure it would have been a dance. There are people around and they are staring at my prance. They stop and look and their faces are indifferent but the moment that stops holds them as still as the shot they capture with their camera at hand. Time is passing and I am dancing. I see the trains move, the shadows shift and my study is about the door which I keep knocking on. No one answers because it is a sunday and the church doors are sealed shut. I need shelter, that is theme of my study but somebody approaches me and talks to me about fear.
I stop my movements I feel like I have lost the moment and no one has joined me, they have tried to capture me and have me and watch me but not one soul joined my game and I round my fist and I release my fingers from that strong grip and I soften my face and let my eyebrows trace the shape of the shining stinging symbol of love walk down my cheek and water the seed I had planted beneath my two feet.
I drop on the ground and grab my head within my hands I shake it slowly and find a smile to put on my face and believe me when I say it comes from within, it does…
Gelsomina
Take a second guess.
Morning shine sun.
How. Wow. Wooooooooohoow. That’s a wolf howling if it did not sound as obvious in your head when you read it out loud.
Heart ache upon heart ache. Is it the same one person for whom I ache or is it the same type of love that keeps me arrray.
I want but I can’t have. I love but I can’t say.
Feelings I have been made to feel, ah it sounds so pathetic. I feel, I do feel for you and you and you. I feel for me. All of me i have wanted to give and meet and be with. None of it pans out isn’t it weird. Somehow I can’t even skip it, play with it the way I want to not get involved.
When they are bad they are very bad and when they are good they just grab at my heart and now. I find myself entangled in everybody elses story but who is it that must be out there that wants to write my own with me. Our story. Who is it just tell me, it’s time now I want to see. Who is he with whom I have my story. Our story. Babies in my tummy. My children to grow. Our home to build. I wonder. Since that day I felt how special it must be to be someone’s valentine. Watching him who I adored from far with a rose in hand gifting it to the girl he thought was the most special of all. I wondered how it would be when I receive the petal of someone’s blossomed seed.
My heart cue in sad slow elevator song by someone famous.
It’s alright now. I am getting help with this hopeless cause of drooling after unavailable men. Let me tell you, no dream is worth a land where they don’t come true hopeless as it sounds. For never and ever would anybody ever dare to make it so if it meant sinking another’s.
At least I never willed to. Not brave enough to dip all the way in but just enough to understand how cold it would have been. Of course for the immunity and the story going all the way is the thing to do but when you want something so bad and have prayed on every star to have it realized it is not really in the books to put that aside and finish a deed. Of course perhaps when roaming alone is the case then for experience, thrill or the temptress herself the warmth is seeked out and waters are tested and mistakes are made and lessons are learned and karma is awaited oh lord bless my soul. The lord of the pink roses and wonderful legends out of all…
I miss you.
I wish I could say that’s all. You know who you are. I know who you are. We just can’t never be sure can we. After all the only certainty is that once began it shall be inevitably unpredictable as it may be.
….
I understand more clearly now. How angry I must have been. How afraid to love the possibility to lose. So much that can be healed for the truth. If only I had a crown…
….
Compensating the wrath.
….
“ Why did you leave?” He asked. She couldn’t look him straight in the eye.
….
Do you notice the grey lines. Who is this about? The man I could not forgive or the man in me I could not love. Father, father. Tell me how I learned to treat myself from those who taught me how I must have been loved. Do you reader sense the ambiguity, the troubled youth and the willingness to learn?
….
How much of myself must be contained? How much of myself am I free to obtain. What is wrong and what is right? Do I have the right to try? It is all private do you realize. Does everyone mature at the same time?
Is it wrong if I please myself in my own company if those who have become the sound of my conscience are always with me. Do I really have privacy? Am I meant to ask somebody or portect myself from all this; a confusing analogy?
Let’s pass that, not scratch. Overload the underload.
Boom Shaka Laka
I am sitting on my heels, feet on the ground and my knees are bent, my head is above my kneecaps, arms reaching outwards from my sides. I am doing a puzzle. It’s a magical scenery of a house I imagine myself living in. A house I imagine myself with the man I will live with in. I imagine it’s his childhood home or similar to where he grew up, the way it seems. I imagine this man.
I am looking for the puzzles and there is slight repetitive jolting pains on the lower right side of my belly. I am slightly panic available but I think. All day I think about my dreams. I think about my upcoming birthday and about the games I grew up playing and the conversation I had yesterday and how I ended up saying my feelings for someone I know had died in my dream.
( Do you recognize what I mean when I talk about that feeling, there is a heavy shadow, a weight, the ghost of somebody. Like a heart that beats; something glowing in your body and just like a sillhouette this sensation has a face of the one that it is connected to. Let’s imagine I am not off topic derailing and am on point regarding the specific feeling. Let’s consider it is directed to one person if not all and then back to one.)
Perhaps I was mistaken.
I loved once, so deeply someone that I spent each and everyday waiting for the next moment until I saw them again. Every day was a way to find my place next to them, in front of them, against them.
Then I left.
I had never confessed.
I went far away.
I loved him still.
I pittied myself for I saw no way.
When I came back home I found out that someone else, someone who got to know him amongst our game, ten years into play… had asked him to be her man.
Looking for the puzzle piece I noticed then, the ease and the lack of care I load onto my current affair… might be the case for I have my heart still unwashed of the remnants of this person’s ghost.
I shed one and some tears.
I feel.
Clown Array
Can’t you see me, Lara?! I love to see you happy and full of life, come caress my sould beautiful body of mine, you wonderful girl. Flower power and love all around. I know how you love the boy but is it actually just that you want him to love you?
If I were a machine I would have learned how to behave. When I get an answer and when I feel like I want to weep… Joke aside he told me, explicitly mentioned it to me. That time is a matter which cannot be bent for matters in hand.
Standing over there. Distance between seems like infinitely none. Above in my chest this tingly love. In my throat, near my heart. I want to throw up. Call someone, get out of my head. Move around with the light. It’s so warm now. My appartment is a lit and outside it’s cold. Time for the candles and warm light out door.
She sits by the window. Sipping her drink. Something warm, a bit orange and meak. Her sight gazez outside where it’s a dark blue shade on top of an indigo light. It’s dark but the snow white makes it dimmed out sun as if the moon sparkled around warms the sky. Her hands there is a book in them and she reads outloud from within. Lifting her head up she sees and suddenly hears the bell to the woodlined shop ring.
I wonder if he sees through my bedroom window sometimes…
Sitting by the window and looking outside her hand reaches in her pocket and suddenly she takes out a paper folded in two. In it written a secret she unfolds it.
“ Is this seat taken?” He asks her. She doesn’t notice she was spoken to at first but then his face becomes clear through the light seeping through. She lifts her head from the imaginary land she ahd been exploring moments ago after placing a finger on the surface of the paper. His face is unlike any she had ever seen before. She knew him but she was certain from no other life. Time focused to that mere moment. His soul piercing through her retina.
Can I be in love with him? In love at the same time as being indifferent to him. Belittling him to who he is and suddenly I feel so but projecting more of me into him and him I want to explore. Never before in any way I had been looked straight in the eye as a first encounter. Moments of the sort. I cherish them as if they aren’t mine to begin with. A grieving mind missing a piece. So deeply in place. Can I ask him to forgive all the time we have been out of each other’s sight when it has been as much me as him who was just not allowed. To break the spell.
I find myself idly arguing with the sensations I have and whether my intentions or feelings are true to that in my head. What a ridicule is this mechanical prop of time that has me wasting grains of my mind heart.
She shakes her head from side to side and takes her bag from on top of the chair and hangs it behind the one on which she is sat.
‘So. How have you been?’ It sounds like that’s what he asks but no words leave his mouth and he appears to know the answer even before her mask. She does not know what to do because suddenly there is no where left to go.
When will you come home?
Preparation Journal
I wonder if blog posts are meant to be written once a day, nonetheless I have some free flowing will within. Something is pulling me down. I will be fine soon but now I have to say.
I haven’t done my training all day, nor the breathwork excercises I meant to hear and clear… Something is pulling me down and let me tell you; it is not my lack of muscle pulling up.
There is this conversation I had a while ago. I miss the talk and also the warmth of the face I so very much liked. I can feel the days getting older and so us closer and perhaps I had personalized a task that had not been mine to hold. I wonder why there was such promise of hope. Afterwards though I felt as though, as though I would love to see this man once again.
Unavailability is a catch. Especially once after twice meeting and seeing and greeting then revealing that time has yet to take a toll and there is much other to do before we roll. Funny how at that moment I yearned so urgently to behold.
Ah ah, in turkish we call it efkar. I would drink tonight.. As famously quoted in many songs although I cannot promise I would get drunk.
Just a face I cannot forget. He did not prefer you to start… My mind can remind me he chose me not many many times but I know at heart that exactly meant that he had in fact done so every single time. He did you wrong, I hear many talk but I know for a fact that he never had.
Fanning the fiction I have something unresolved. Self esteem and the measure of worth. It is about the man and the men who love to love me the way they love to love. Not much about me you see, nor about my self worth. Just some to do with love and self and them alone.
I bow my head and I glance at the watch. I have yet to pull myself up around ten or so times, then push myself up more than ten or so. Don’t even get me started on spinning my body round my shoulders and right after lifting my feet up to my nose.
The problem is though; I can spread my legs wide but if I do not practice it every single day at the least sometimes I have to try a bit harder than most. Punch the line. It’s only a joke.
Let’s get back to the show I saw- are you familiar with the dance they do biting each finger and teasing a wide load. I caught myself being sneaky about my world and little did I do to hold myself from imagining a stage with my black boots. I halt and breathe to make sure one does not require to avenge but just hold for a moment that exhale which just left the body, enriched with carbon dioxide I can utilize all that oxygen I breathed in.
I guess that is also how a relationship walks… From all the talk and all the love shared what remains is the memory of the rememberance… One other cares for you at least as much as you can at your best. Do I owe it to myself merely or to life intact to do myself right at every single step, breathe, take and stage…
I’ll now demonstrate.
Love Letters Formally Array
So to say… I hurt my ankle a couple weeks ago. I had not realized that I would need so much time to heal from it. Funny how it goes arrr. A couple things on my mind. Who of you knows that I have been developing this performative ( how do you say, the reveal or unmasking) well I aim to draw attention to things we rarely talk about. Of course not everyone knows about this in fact only those who have experienced the darker side realize where a certain desire may rise from. Let’s put that aside for now. I wouldn’t want to spoil a beautiful act. More on my mind is the show I got to watch yesterday. Perhaps I have indeed found a worthy stage amongst devils who dare to beware the regard and dispatching it away. Funny how I look up and the thing I see is exactly the message I need. I would insert a couple of winks here and there but tragically comedia deems that I have no person before me that would see. If only…
I’ll trace my steps back and address this concern I have. For some time now there has been a face in my heart. Night and day I wake up thinking about what I had done. Only time could tell truly what I have done and how it was perceived but take a second to unjudge and let’s dismantle this haze. I had not realized I might have been overshadowing myself with an idea of myself that I had. Of course alongside time it takes humans who have experienced your being alongside to reflect the truth of what you are at that time and that is also how you might take a moment to realize oh wow! Have I been wrong? Meaning: do you often realize this gap. The gap between well I don’t know how to say. Actually better the yet, I do not want to say. Let’s get back into it shall we. I’ll stop stalling. Let’s go ahead and play.
He stood in a distance and I noticed him from the conrer of my eye. Charlie was talking to me but my mind was inside the other moment Jasper had created in time. He reached out to my hand and I pulled back but I could not realize how far back I had stepped away. In his eyes I saw a moments glance. I could not understand what it had all meant and I was being pulled to take even further steps towards the lake. I could see the crying tree and it’s leaves brushing near the plants on the ground. His back facing me as he sat on the rock by the water, his head bent down and hands brushing the water along with the long branches hooding his figure as if caving him inside. I got closer to him as much as I could but it just seemed he would get farther away as I tried to make a pull. I was shaking my head and I only noticed I did because Charlie yelled out and it got further the sound as if from the walls of the caves it echoed around and round and round. I knew there was a reason Jasper appeared out of nowhere, it could not have been that pure coincidence led him to me and Charlie as we stood near where the bridge ended and the sea began.
Looking at them I saw on her face that something was wrong. I was convinced it isn’t the right time for them to go but they seem ready to leave and all I can do is try. Try to understand.
In my mind his thoughts echoed and I could no longer hear Charlie’s whisper. I felt my sound decrease and so did the breathe in my mind as I drifted backwards I reached for his hand.
Take time.
Take time.
Take time.
I remember that time. I was so afraid. Utterly lost. Within disappointment and a panic at heart. I could not feel safe, warm or hugged. Perhaps I needed to be with friends but all of them had other hearts and we drifted apart and my privilege began to tear me apart from all that sharing I had learned without the cash in my pocket I had had to spare. Another worry lost. Sweat and tears of my child heart disappearing in a moment without explanation or reason. Questioning yet again the flowing river. I found my place but the stream is too tough to keep holding onto this rock. Perhaps I need to stumble upon fighting for my life a branch that floats on the surface just like my shallow breathing keeping me up.
He told me he would hold me, time would move and I would reunite. I love her, I told him and I cried for we had grown up together and it had been so long since I held her and she trusted me without choice.
Well time passed.
He held me.
Then he lost.
He was never to keep me nor I him. For this planet we roamed as earth called was only and ever to be lived on once.