I mean if you didn’t pronounce Chaos as ˈkeɪɒs you would of course call it cha-os.
Hello weirdness and lack of presence. Internal presence. LITERALLY, I mean, I could very well call it quits now. Where it = this thing I am thinking about aka with a blank mind.
I don’t wanna call it ˈkeɪɒs now. Chios. Cheyaus. Tch tch.
a g i t a t i o n
This time of the year you want to give up. You are so done. You could pack a bag and scurry off to the hills or something… even though this wasn’t what you wanted. But if you could find peace in any form you’ll want to go after it.
You are happy. You are laughing. You are making others laugh. There are fun sounds and dramatic gestures and such a sacred feeling of gratefulness it scares you.
You can see the mess. You know what it is even when you’re tapping your fingers on the keyboard pretending you can’t find the word you know you know the word, you know it’s called s t r u g g l e and sometimes it’s a name and sometimes, it’s a silly count of all your poems you never had the guts to share. When you end a day and begin another, you pat yourself on the shoulder because you can cut one on the self-help calendar in your mind, now it’s just 37 more days. After that, you will probably come up with another idea.
I wish I could tell you your burden is not your own but everyone’s collective burden is hell so yours is yours alone. Though there’s still some hope because – oh, I don’t know. But there is a heaven as well so there should be.
I said: “I love you”
And heard its echo
In every part of my being.You were nowhere else
But in me.
☆
Inspired by the weekly photo prompt: security.
A lot of peace. So much of peace.
When nothingness spreads. Takes over and fills in the empty corners inside
Cleanses nooks and corners of your body so your soul can feel holy there. Like it’s in a temple.
A sleep that isn’t your casual escape route. Where dreams don’t push each other like cars chasing in a traffic jam or kid’s throwing blocks in a basket. There’s no hurry and there is no chaos. No tiredness, just serenity. A relaxed mind. A relaxed reality.
No sharp red. No bright sun. Not the scary kind of dark. Not the scary kind of silent. The fear-free, worry-free zone. Nothing artificial nor too temporary. Nothing else. Just peace. The real, real kind of peace. (The one you write about when you want to feel a bit. Not the one we read to read.)
22-Aug-2016
“There is more and more I tell no one…”
~Jane Hirshfield
There is more and more I tell no one. It kills me how I’m dying.
You came to see me two months ago and I have been missing you ever since. Every morning, as soon as I wake up, I make a prayer for you to be there and then I open my eyes. Slowly. Expectantly. But then you’re never here. Nobody is. And you know, that always makes me smile. Because hope never tires, does it?
(It’s embarrassing too, to think what I have become, but I cannot just help it. I am waiting for you to show up.)
The doctors told me yesterday I haven’t got much time remaining on my hands. I said to them, thank you. I thought they did this so I could develop an understanding of my case and accept what was going to happen to me. One of them sighed and came closer to my bed, put his hand on my forehead and gently asked me if there was someone I would like to call. Oh, now I get it, I remember thinking. They want to know if I’m truly that lonely or if there might be just someone out there who would take care of my funerary customs and claim their relation maybe. Could someone like me be just that alone? All alone?
Yes, I wanted to say. I would very much like to see him. I am yearning to see him. If his image could be my last image and his scent my last scent, I wouldn’t want anything else in the world to say I died happy. But I cannot die happy. You are not here and you won’t come even if I ask them to tell you everything; that I’m dying in a few days, that I’m sorry, terribly sorry; because that is what I deserve. I deserve this, I do. I have damaged a lot of lives. I cannot change things back. I am learning everything here in this room–this hospital room– but I think I’ve gotten too late for lessons this time. It’s of no use.
If they somehow still find you please be kind enough to bury me with your forgiveness.
–
What is meant to happen, happens. Had it not rained quite so heavily this morning, you could still have gotten late for the meeting. Had it not been that one wrong course you took back in college, you would still have sat here tonight under the only star’s shade lamenting other decisions. Life is unsatisfactory, and knowing this only is satisfying enough at times.
You don’t need to be thankful for whatever happens around you every minute. This is not necessary. Though you do need to be at peace with things inside and out so you are not just existing but living–and you need this why? –because this is the pendulum’s last swing. You don’t want to ask yourself, “why did I not live?” after all of this is over. Instead, you have to make it more worthwhile than creating black out of your red.
If two beings are destined to meet, they will. The world cannot question it. But if your heart was meant to be broken, darling, it had to be so by him.
A beautiful path!
A photo by me!
Of beauty and tranquility~!
(Copyright Protected.)
Randomly Abstract 