I stand in the middle of my thoughts, drawn only to the drawings in my head, I stand between this world and the next, the space between who I am today and who I will be tomorrow. Left with only one choice, choice itself, for now I choose who I will be, no teacher, no parents, no You, only my voice remains, no arrows to success and no well trodden paths to failure.
Left to my own devices I devise my way to . . . .
for here is where i wish to be, but the world is not built on wishes you see,
so I read these words and plan my journey,
my journey back to here.
Now that I look back Eye see the exact points at which I was granted the ability to change the cycle, the things I said yes and no to, the places I did and did not go, the calls I did and did not answer and it all makes sense, retrospective is an amazing thing only if You learn from it. When the little voice in Your head begins to scream You know to listen, for trauma is never usually worth the immediate pleasure You receive, undoubtedly I hurt people in ways only my soul can understand, for my mind sees only its own selfish needs. I do not know if this is the remorse that people speak of that I’m feeling but an overwhelming urge to mend broken fences exists in my heart these days, sharing in both pain and pleasure Eye see my mind for what it is. An addict
It craves to feel, feelings of all natures it does not discriminate, like a flu virus. I watch as it plots and plans and schemes and eye wait, eye wait for the silence, the gap, the pause, but it does not come. It lingers turning my head left and right, never closing its eyes, searching, searching for something else to excite it once more.
I laugh for laughter is all eye am capable of, as eye watch it withdraw, starved of satisfaction it bides it time ready for tomorrow, my creation, eye see my creation and heartache is what I receive, like a psychopath in both light and dark it fears not the changing of the season nor the weather that it brings, unashamed it does not lurk in the background but shows its full face to all those that look. Like an untamed beast it rears it head.
Today I saw a face of nature, not seen by many who hide behind 4 walls and locked doors.
Prisoners to nothing but their own mind, as I gazed upon the sea from the beach edge, I edged closer to a part of me not seen since I left that age we call childhood. Together as my mind body and soul delve deeper into the known, I no longer pursue knowledge for it does not elude my senses. It searches for me, keen in the knowledge that I will embrace it with love, share it with confidence and not hide it from view.
The people of tomorrow are born today into a world that knows not of their existence surrounded by the emotions of their parents successes and failures they become a beacon of not only new life but renewed hope that something so graceful could belong to world in so much turmoil, as we drag our feet through our misshapen timeline we align ourselves to our most secure thought.
The ones we hold onto, the ones we never let go of, but what happens if that secure thought, the one which people do not let go of is the pain of their child hood, their misshapen hearts a testament to slammed doors and violent shouts, left in a place where they can count more broken dreams than broken bottles.
There is no easy way in for them, as they face life full throttle no time to slow down and see the signs, until they see the sign that they should have stopped, as they crash into a reality they did not help to create. But wait.
All of this as a result of what I held onto, what You held on to, what we held on to.
All the pain the mistrust and broken hearts I left behind, or at least what I thought I left behind. Now pollute the air which we need to breathe, so I choke and he chokes and she chokes and we all choke, for we did not clean our past and now the smell follows us wherever we go.
So I run, I run from the stench of those unlearnt lessons, those curses and blessings, those tears that ran down cheeks and those still inside, those judgmental faces, those undercover racists. But,
but no one told me I was running away from all that love, all those hugs and kisses, smiles and secret handshakes.
So now I stand, he stands, she stands, we stand, as we face our past and see both the smile of our so called best friend and the grimace of our so called enemies.
I must choose, he must choose, she must choose, we must choose,
Should we keep running?