Look A Little Closer

An eternally whimsical pride
Set aside, along withdrawing tides.
Will you stand beside
Watching, waiting what betides?

For fear, fraught with hope
Left to fester in scope,
Derived of impunity
To deviate so discreetly,
Denies so close to your closed eye
An opportunity to lie.

Your head crumbling inside,
Around the ephemeral eternity
Belied by euphonic tides,
Sets pace for new identity.

Advertisements

Another Year Closer To Death

It’s amusing to consider life in function of how close to death we are. It would seem, there is a point at which it becomes more pragmatic to consider life in relation to approaching death as opposed to years lived. Maybe this changes as one approaches the upper echelons of age, but I would not know.

The truth is simple, no matter how incrementally time is broken down it is still finite. Finding pursuits worthy of that ever diminishing time becomes more critical and difficult.

Is wisdom the ability to discern what pursuits are worthwhile? Or is wisdom simply a tool that allows us to make decisions that excuse ourselves from blame or corruption? Or perhaps it is best that we ignore wisdom, for it is an inconvenience that leads to inaction over action.

Again, I do not know.

And that leads me to a new a question I have considered. What is understanding?

Is understanding the total and unequivocal acceptance of another’s position once an argument has been posited? Does it rely on the empathetic relation of someone’s position and their choices? Does understanding really convey a meaning of mutual coordination or is it simply a tool to ally oneself with another’s stance?

Once more, I say I don’t know.

I take the stance of an independent. Act in your own best interest. Whether that be to benefit of others or just yourself, at the very least you can lie at night knowing you’ve propagated the growth of your own goals. There is emotional interplay that affects the choices we make, no denying it. But to what extent?

For myself, I stop at shame. If something appears to cast shame onto me, or I feel shame, then that is not a valid argument. We must accept our own doings, as well as the consequences that stem from them.

It my seem that seems very capitalist or “Ayn Randian” but that is not the case. Acting solely in one’s best interest can not be ideal for the simple reason that human growth depends on the interplay between peoples.

Feeling other emotions is good, healthy, and normal. Feeling a debt to others is customary. Just don’t let it overrule your life. Don’t let it control the decisions you make.

One friend of mine, I respect beyond belief. Simply because he pursues his creativity to an extent that I have seen no other do. He creates with only regard to himself, even if the purpose is only to put ink on paper. He lets the fountain flow unrestrained, and that is the most important aspect of being a creative. No crevice unexplored, no rock unturned. To truly live one must let themselves believe in anything, even if it relies on others letting such emotions or creations exist.

Creation is an act of leaving oneself behind upon this world. That is fantastic in and of itself. To create is to truly bare the soul. To create and not amend or change or adapt or cower is a sign of strength and courage.

I hope to leave my mark.

You Know I Can’t Love

On the fringe of forgetting, once more you appeared, like wind, in my dream. You always return, adding another note to the memories I’ve tucked away of you. Down in the depths of my drawer are moments we never lived. Hesitations giving way to euphoria. Sorrows stemming from my expectancies.

Only in ephemeral atmospheres of dreams did you see my authenticity, my worries, my desires laid bare. Waking brings the knowing that no communication would replicate the feeling. I wanted to see your eyes hold mine, not in searching but in longing, since you understand all too well. To feel your caress, to be safely in your embrace, be held and meld with you.

But you are only in my dreams. There is no stack of dreams catalogued away in your desk of me. When you met me I was not the person I should have been. What would you think if we met now? Could I be your dream instead?

For now, I’ll write another note of you. Reminders of your fleeting, cutting appearances.

When will I forget again?

How can I love when you’ve forgotten me?

Creatively Dead Day

Couldn’t come up with many ideas today. A bit frustrating. I’d been a roll for the past couple weeks or so with working efficiently, productively, and expansively. But today I couldn’t put down any good ideas, regardless of what I tried to do stimulate my mind. Maybe I just need some days to recover, decompress, and reassess and allow my mind to loosen up some. Hopefully better content tomorrow.

Diluted

Early sunsets are my favorite part of ending daylight savings. It feels as if you get all the benefits of having late night camaraderie with your friends & peers without the drain of energy that comes along with it being so late. Maybe it’s just a leftover piece of nostalgia from having so many nighttime soccer practices when I was younger. Maybe I just hate the sunshine.

I like the overcast days, when the sun can’t fully pierce the haze of clouds. I like the muted days where no one cares to go out and the ambience is the focus. I revel in the chill that drives others to seek warmth and shelter indoors.

The chill of the wind stemming from a cold front is like no other. Whipping around my body, watering my eyes. The sharp, precise piercing of wind slicing specific lines through my sweater. What can compare?

A day where the world seems drab, slept  on, indistinguishable is the best day possible. Why would I ever want to experience the same world as others? Why would I ever want to share my experience amongst so many others? What would convince me that my sensory exploration, my sensory interpretation, my sensory understanding isn’t unique to only myself?

Optimism

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. A saying for the pragmatists, or even the cynical. For the optimist, however, prepare for the best, realize better than the best. Assume nothing goes wrong. Better yet, assume nothing.

Merely work, think, create, and do not stop.

It is not about iterating, making better, advancing, helping, developing, augmenting, changing, revolutionizing, growing, adapting, profiting.

Discern a goal, discern a method, and make it reality.

Never qualify, never presuppose, never accept constraint. Otherwise nothing of note will be made. The structure will grow stale. Passion will stifle and purpose will wither.

Build, not so the creative flame stays bright, but to flicker into shapes as yet unseen, casting brighter blind spots and darker shadows to overcome.

Create for another to choose to create better.