Mortality of Dreams

Walking down the glimmering path---
the path created by translucent crystal formations.
The image speaks wisdom to the forgotten soul,
lost in the ever changing shapes.

Bathing in strands of light,
capillaries uniting in euphoria from it's delicate touch.
Sinking into pours,
now overwhelmed with simplistic beauty.

The place only you and the dusk fear to go, 
forgetting that single hand that lead you to this empty destination. 

Fear not the shadows that lead people astray,
turn towards the wayward path with the broken smile.
The smile lost,
misinterpreted by those who claim to cherish it most.

Follow those lips to the darkest pit,
only to find the sanctuary we all forgot we were promised.
A place where washed up shores splash against supple skin.

Feeling naked and alone,  but mostly naked. 

Feeling abashed in your innocence,
the pure form that frightens strangers away from the light.
The feeling of ambiguity one has for the lost childhood.
The sought after shelter only found in dreams.
Show me how to dream,
while these broken tears cascade down into nothingness.

A simple gesture now out of reach of comprehension.

Remember when it was nothing but the light,
a place filled with mesmerizing possibilities.
A path not yet broken or discarded,
a life consumed with innocent intentions.

Natural love unchallenged by restless minds,
oh to see the through the eye's of that child.
The child who never intended to grow into this man,
a man who seeks solace in what always becomes an empty bottle.

Wrapped in those forgiving arms,
the arms that help we escape this dreadful mortality.
It use to be the promise of life standing in the doorway,
but now the reality of death's firm grasp strangles with each passing day.

The only pure reality reflected--- 
the translucent colors that make everyday beautiful in dreams.

The Pit

The night ends with a special death
 born again once the red sun rises in a mist filled morning,
 tragedy breathes in the darkness,
 feel it's pulse.

Lingering in your mind, the complex thoughts that yearn to be discovered---
falling alone in the pit of an unimaginable despair,
naked in the guilt of fear---
a fear more powerful than the womb of the mother who abandoned you.

Left alone in the cruel world,
infant screams echo through the hills that once brought us solitude.
Your sacred place now disturbed,
extinguished by a monsoonal tide of unfathomable guilt.

A conscious now lacking the ability to comprehend,
finding yourself  in a place unfamiliar to you.
Remembering the loss of love---
possessed in a moment of ill-advised  passion.

You lost your innocence the moment you were torn from the vacant womb,
alone, abandoned, forsaken to this lonely broken path.
Infinite night bites into your veins,
a warmth slowly moves through.

The Red Sun rises.

The Other Way Around

Do you believe in the colors that rise and set in the desert with each rotation? They seem to wash over you with secret intentions. Intentions that will always be lost on the unsuspecting, bringing restless minds to those rocks with souls who turn their back to face the dark shadows. It's lost on you, the colors tap on your shoulder eager for your eyes to be upon them once again.

The Shadows

It's what you find yourself in once again as the fire beneath reveals the darkness. What you see is a life being played out in front of you on the cascading rocks. Images appear in your mind, shadows dance in a hysterical fashion imitating you the way only black and grey can. Wrapped in the Granite shadowed hands, scathed by darkness, hoping the impact is minimal. Breaking free from fixating fingertips yearning to hold you below the surface. You now know a tap on the shoulder  was an invitation to open your eyes, but it's to late. You have chosen to bleed across the desert leaving a trail only the moon can follow. Colors rise and no trace can be found, do we all succumb to the shadows?

The Colors

Squinting with lips beginning to curl as the colors trace your skin, a rising sensation hovers you with light creating a trail of unmistakable colors. Now you know why your eyes must be open, simply put but also simply mistaken. You are quickly saturated with dust, not yet immune to the innocence of those who bathe in the colors. It happens in an instant, a quick reaction filled with child like curiosity as arms wrap you in the reflection of the light. As the comfort sets in, an unannounced fear hides within that you must know has to end. You cannot choose to ignore the blistering pace in which your changing emotions appear in the light. A distance that must be kept for selfish ambitions that you cannot share in the setting sun. The colors fade into magentas and purples that imitate the darkness, mocking the oncoming shadows that has found fear, goodbye colors, it's time to dance with the shadows.

The feeling of a shared existence is what keeps you in this constant rotation of indecision. A path that follows you, you have always wondered why it's the other way around. Forget about letting yourself be influenced by the change and choose to live in both the colors and shadows. You figure you cannot have one without the other.      

Goodbye Now

I try to understand what it really means to say goodbye as I look upon my blurred reflection. It must be the mirror that really knows what goodbye means as I turn my back on it once again. See into my eyes before you say those words, the words that tear me down, nobody can pick me up at this rate. I see you breathing, living, thriving on the path laid out before you. It's not certain what started this "change" but I am watching, now, from a distance that was started because we all chose to say goodbye. I see it now, hold on, as tears of hollowed joy swell and slide down our faces leaving traces of memories we all share.

I now see reflections of you as I spin in the mirror that loves to play tricks on you, me or whoever dares to believe it's deceitful intentions. It shows me a night spent under the desert stars, a tranquil night disturbed by celebrations of Love and Reunions. An ocean of sand with an electric rainbow dance floor  made for these memories that now wash over our faces. The rocks will remember the words that were shared as we danced around fire while our smiles lit up the night. It's hard to see you now. Separated, torn and broken now lost in the night. The concept of goodbye is now starting to show itself to me.

As the light from the computer hits the window, it shows the reflection of a living room turned dance floor filled with just four people, living while its night and sleeping while its light. A small carpet space was now in the hands of Honeybee, as it seduced us into a night of beating the floor beneath our feet. Curtains now closed as we share time around our porch just giving ourselves time to speak.  A conversation of the unknown journey we were already embarking on. The fragile future we were to share set the stage for this painful goodbye now enveloping me with the complete understanding of the word.

It means heartache with bipolar sensations of grief and joy watching your eyes in the rearview mirror driving up the 101. It's knowing that the journey set before you is filled with endless roads, tracks and trails that will fill your lives with new dreams and memories away from us. Goodbye to the nights but not the memories. Goodbye to the past but not the future. Goodbye to the West but not your home. Goodbye to now but not to later.

Fire Required

It has come and gone once again with a fervent ambition to take all those good times away. Amongst the flames of the night is where we feel truly blessed, I take that back, alive. Alive in a life that feels nomadic more and more with each passing day. A life, laughter ensues, a life to be taken seriously for the fear of being misunderstood. A life lived as a parody (hiding behind a corner trying to blend in) atop the great stage of this paradoxical scene of restlessness hidden behind glowing smiles. It's those types of smiles that draw us back to the comfortable (sanity disguised as comfort) relationships that we ignore far to often, but comfortable none the less.

The fire grows.

With the growth of the fire it brings more people to it's light, the light that dances and crackles with the movement of the music. It's the music that is provided by a pair of Guitar Men singing to the moon. There seems to be no one else around the fire except for these two, they capture the attention of the night sky as their moods become more apparent. A desperate tone now enters into the voices, seeking comfortable (wisdom disguised as comfort) conclusions of decisions that have already been made. The music stops, everyone  goes silent, it doesn't matter what we are thinking which is to honest of a truth. It's time to break the silence, Guitar Men ensue.


The flames are now creating the heat that we all crave in this deceptively "Fall" cool night. We are following through with the most natural of instincts, oh to be close to one another wrapped up in the blankets of these flames. Holding onto one another are the two who choose to love (we always choose) one another because of the many nights spent surrounded by granite and desolate skies. Skies that were ready to be forged by their hands, their own written universe, a tall story to tell. A story that only they will truly know, share, and nourish with travels and books that fuel their journey. New contrasts of color is sketched into their skin as the fire waivers gently in the midnight breeze.
 .
The fire smolders.

  The embers now create faces in the fire as they glow in a pulsating kind of a way. The fire seems to have a heart on its way out, simply unfamiliar with how to let go. I look back to the good times now fading away with the fire, almost forgotten with the year that I have just lived. To grow and smolder with all of these fires we have shared. It's fitting to spend this night with all of you, a night where I grow another year older in the face of this dying fire. To age around fire is to stumble (always seeking balance) around and find a way to seek these ageless nights. I grew up.

The fire dies.

Floating

It's time to take a journey together, as I glance back I see the smile break through as you try to hold onto your last breathe. I think it's simply a time to grow with one another as your imagination shows you the road that lies ahead. The anxiety builds up inside as your feet lift up and start to glide across that freshly paved road. As you float away the sky turns grey and the softest snow bathes the sidewalk turning the ground into a virgin landscape. How can I follow you down this road and disturb such a vulnerable beauty. You don't glance back, instead you turn into a piercing light that envelops my soul before I am able to reach you.

I try to recall the moment when your journey drifted away from mine. It must have been the night when the music tore you away from the bitterness of your youth. A wave of stereo-phonics broke into your world creating a rejuvenating purpose to your life. I sat back and watched you move with a unique understanding of the music that was carrying you away, all I could do was watch you become the ocean of people. The waves moved as if they were hypnotized by a boasting full moon, but instead it was the music casting down rays of light that rocked the people back and forth.  I can no longer make you out in the crowd as you wash around on the dance floor. No time for a fare thee well, I don't have my life jacket to follow you out there so you slowly fade away.  Whatever happened to that final goodbye before your sails were set for sea to see the celestial sights that were created for our eyes to witness together? 

The proverbial fork in the road has been crossed, I chose the streets and treetops while you floated in a sea of tranquility through a cold winter storm. People always seem to choose the things they understand best so why should we be any different? All we can do now is think of one another as distant memories and nothing more. Distant memories that will soon be replaced by a new first kiss, a new sunset and a new first night spent up all night just talking. It won't be the same, but a refreshingly new tingle will once again travel up and down your spine. The memories that were once so cherished now slip away into the darkness just as the photos will collect dust and lose their resolution. I don't blame the journey, but I do envy the fearlessness of your ambitions to conquer those obstacles it places before you. 

This journey has found it's conclusion on the top of a mountain as I watch the trees melt underneath the heat of the day. I watch the sky display images of your future in the lights where the music never stops. You dance away with the setting sun as it lays the trees to sleep, tucking them away under the sheets of midnight's darkness. I look away for the last time, I know you will enjoy the beats of life while I seek the streets that feels best underneath my feet. 

The fear of loathing

I sit here reading through all of the political jumbo and can't help myself feeling a lot more political than I would have ever imagined. Today the majority of the nation is walking on edge, for the greatest fear is that one's respective candidate will lose the upcoming election. We wait on this day with an uneasy anticipation, it baffles me how anybody could be excited for a day like this. As the day grows shorter one can almost feel the rise of civil unrest. We wait four years to elect officials that are seeking this venture as a career choice. A rise in the status of a major corporation which our country is becoming. Money is what runs this country and it seems that we have evolved into people that will only follow the wealthy. I guess they found their niche and found a way to become super wealthy and keep up their "integrity" in the process. Along with any major business/corporation one must have a cut throat personality to rise to the very top. There are very few people who choose not to advance themselves, because they fear they will have to sacrifice their moral codes. It's sad to me because these are the people that could make the real difference. Instead we have let our nation become a money mongering beast. A place where the ruthless flourish and the truly great ideas are forgotten because of selfish endeavors.

"Not everybody is comfortable with the idea that politics is a guilty addiction. But it is. They are addicts, and they are guilty and they do lie and cheat and steal--like all junkies. And when they get in a frenzy, they will sacrifice anything and everybody to feed their cruel stupid habit, and there is no cure for it. That is addictive thinking. That is politics--especially in presidential campaigns. That is when addicts seize the high ground. They care about nothing else. They are salmon, and they must spawn. They are addicts."--Hunter S. Thompson