The Path’s End

Something captures us.
Our attention, we call it.
It takes us places,
In our imagination.
Then leads us to the end.
Then there is nothing else,
But to turn around,
And go back.
Wishing we could take it
Make it real,
Make it part of us.
Make it part of the world
We actually live in.
Wondering,
Who this person is,
That we call ourselves.
This life we lead,
That we call ours.
Where honesty
Is a peculiarity,
And called weakness,
To many.
But I can not hold
That burden any longer.

I can not be what you want.
No more than you can.
I am what I am.
That is all I,
Will ever be.
To ask any different,
That is the real fantasy.
The chorus of earthbound
Angels groan.
Because the truth,
That we are,
Has been sequestered
To our imagination.

The Red Glass Door

A door that leads to somewhere, not uncommon, but uncommon to be led there from here.

“Sarah, let me get the bill!” said Jen in a rare act of generosity. Her consolation prize, thought Sarah bitterly. As Jen turned to pay the bartender, she pulled her wallet from her cluttered purse and out with it came a torn piece of yellow paper fluttering to the ground behind her. Sarah looked down at the piece of paper and then at Jen’s back and then around the crowded bar. In one swift movement, Sarah bent down, picked up the yellow paper, stuffed it into her pocket and stood up. She glanced at Jen’s back and then around the room. No one glanced back until she saw Nate across the room, talking to his buddies. He turned his head and their eyes met, he smiled. She smiled back.

Without talking, Sarah and Jen walked outside to catch their cab rides home and when the first cab came, Jen graciously offered it to Sarah, “You take it, I’ll get the next one.”
Consolation prize number two, thought Sarah as she got into the cab and waved goodbye to Jen, who waved back. Perhaps she feels bad, thought Sarah. As she zoomed off towards home, Sarah took the yellow piece of paper out of her pocket and stared at it silently, written on it was was “Nate” and his cell number.

The next morning, Sarah looked at the piece of paper in her hand, cell phone in the other. She sat stiffly on her couch, recalling the previous evening. Sarah had been the one to strike up the conversation with Nate, while Jen worked the room, flitting from one man to another with her coy smiles, batting eyelashes, and flirty gestures. Sarah and Nate had spent the evening engrossed in conversation, even his friends did not try to interrupt. She had never had a conversation like that and she had felt exhilarated and giddy, until Jen showed up, laughing, leaning in close to him, putting her arm around Nate and finally, asking for his phone number. Nate had looked at Sarah for a moment and then wrote his number on that yellow piece of paper and gave it to Jen. She knew Jen would never call him and had no intention of calling him. Sarah stood up and began pacing the room as she thought, this was always the way it worked! How many times had this happened in their long friendship? Since they were teenagers! How many more times would it happen? When was it going to be her turn?

Sarah stopped and with shaking fingers, dialed Nate’s number. She starting pacing again. As the phone rang and rang she glanced back and forth from the number on the phone to the number on the paper. The ringing stopped and the phone flew back up to her ear.
“What the hell kind of friend are you?” said a familiar voice. Sarah stopped suddenly with her mouth open, but she didn’t speak. She looked down at her phone and again at the piece of paper.
“Jen? How …? Wha …? I … I thought I … I mean, I meant to call …”
“Nate? You meant to call Nate!?” Jen said in a quiet shriek. There was a long silence.
“Well, hon, he’s right here, still sleeping, do you want me to wake him for you?” said Jen shrilly. In the background, Sarah could hear the rumble of the trolley car that ran outside of Jen’s apartment.
“How…? How did you …?”
“You think I dropped his number by accident?”
Sarah sat down hard on the couch and turned off her phone.

The Garage Door

I am not sure what compels me to create these images. Perhaps it is because my hope is that things are not always what they seem. What more can we imagine?

Reaching Through The Ages

I see the smiles on my faces of childhood.
And I wonder, what happened?
Where did I lose myself?
Where is that joy?

I reach back through the ages,
Coming to the hard edge
That is the beginning of my life
But feeling the pull from further beyond.

I go forth in this life, and I wonder
What have I brought with me?
Unsettled and curdling within,
I yearn for It to reveal itself.

It’s almost as if I am attempting
To heal the wounds of souls’ past
To free them from their tarnished existence,
A portal to existence beyond the hard edge
That was the end of their earthly life.

I can feel the calling of what I can’t explain,
The responsibility whose request I can’t quite grant,
The safe passage I can’t quite shine the light on,
Because I have not yet done it for myself.

Yet, what does come through me,
Is not me, but something we all are part of
But their seems to be a toll for their crossing,
And each time, I somberly pay.

If grace were my closest confidante,
Then maybe I might remember,
To reach through the ages,
And bring with me that forgotten smile.

The Loneliness of Exceptional

exceptional \ 2 : better than the average : superior
-Webster’s Third New International Dictionary Unabridged

And when he finally reached the top of the mountain, he looked down at the people below and knew himself, finally, to be exceptional. But, so long did he sit on that mountain that he didn’t recognize himself anymore. “How lonely it is, to set yourself above others.” he thought.

So, he climbed back down the mountain. And in the valley he ran into an old lady who took one look at him and said,
“To know yourself, Truly, is to know yourself as special. To know others Truly and you will given a special place in their heart.”
And he set out, finally, to be excellent at finding special.

What The Light Can Show Us

When lost, as I have been, I see only the light. Until I realize that it is not the light we desire, but what it can show us. And when we can see that, then we can know who we are.

The Glitch In The Universe

In the corner of the sky,
Tucked behind a cloud,
Is a place of unfathomable wonder.
There is one problem.
That is,
Where do you find a corner in the sky?

Perhaps easier to find is this -
The space under a levitating tree
If you are lucky,
You will find it.

For the tree will not pause,
Above the ground forever.
It will gently reach its roots
Back to the earth
And it will settle itself,
Grounded.

But,
Sometimes, when
There is a glitch in the Universe,
It will not settle.
And in that space,
Between ground and tree,
Amongst those gentle roots,
We will find a look
Into the place where,
Our imagination lives.
And we will take comfort
In knowing it exists.
And it will lead us to places within ourselves
Only before known, maybe,
To the imagination.

Split In The Trunk

Sometimes, a split in our trunk is not a weakness, but can lead us down a new path.

The Temple In The Woods

If I am to be known,
Here I am.
Somewhere in the jungle
Of words,
I get lost.

But,
It’s not Me,
That I really want
You
To know.

If I could wish for you,
It would be,
To pass through this life
And not miss,
The Temple in the Woods.

But,
I watched,
Many pass by,
And,
Miss it.

Maybe then, it is for me,
To show you,
And we could share
In the wonder
That Is.

And,
I wait,
For You,
To
Show me too.