Time (for 5.17.13)

-->

Caught. Strangled. Bound by the schematic we call time. The sun rising and setting categorized by the span of an hour, a tick of a second. Our breaths and tears, our smiles and fears confined to the days, the waking and sleeping we call life. Our circadian rhythm may tell us when to sleep or rise, but our alarm clocks tell us the time even when while we sleep. The seasons change, leaves fall, flowers grow; all marked by days and years. We are born and we die, but time continues.

And the golden hands of the clock keep ticking.

Cookies and Lemonade (part 11)

Crystal looked down the aisle and saw him, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

James was the boy she grew up with. The boy she despised for years. The boy who always wore that light tan Stetson. The boy who gave her the cat she always wanted as a peace offering. He was the boy who wooed her over a plate of Nana Mae’s famous cookies. Somewhere along the way he became her best friend. He was the boy who slowly stole her heart. And now he was hers forever. To have and to hold, for better or worse. 

Peacock (for 5.17.2013)

Far to many love the peacock. 

True if you were to place a sparrow beside a peacock, eyes would indeed be drawn towards the peacock. For how can you ignore those magnificent hues of blue? That design staring into your soul? 

But I still prefer the sparrow. 

Appearing drab at first, it’s fine brown feathers have many hues. Each one, it’s own design.

I could watch a sparrow for hours. I adore it’s unassuming beauty. 

The world says “You are plain. You should want to be a peacock.”

But in my eyes, you are so much more than a peacock. 

love

Love(n): An intense feeling of deep affection

I don't think there's any true way to describe it. I mean, the characteristics of it are easy to describe.

Side effects may include: heart skipping, head spinning, cheeks flushing, smile inducing.

And sure! Stating everything you find attractive in someone is part of love. But, there's something deeply mysterious about the feeling itself, and when you do experience it and it echoes everywhere in your body, it is most certainly indescribable. 

And here you are, experiencing this feeling, and you don't even know where to begin.

Love is a kind of funny feeling.

For You

We found you, of course.

We always do.

Your pasty grey hands reach out, desperate.

Begging for life.

Don’t you know you’re already cursed?

But, no.  You’re fortunate.  

How I loathe those who saved me. 

Who stole me, branded me worthy. 

Sewed my skin to this green, green world.

Who seared my flesh so I could never be free.

They’ve beat me, they’ve won. 

Don’t let them beat you too.

So as they hand me this torch, trust me.

As they douse you, don’t scream.

You’ll be free now, I promise.

I’ll do this, yes.

I’ll do this for you

worried about the music

Do you ever wonder if the world will run out of melodies? That someday we’ll reach the end of the notes and what will happen then? What will we do when the music is all written?

I used to be afraid of that. The end of music.

But then I thought about all the notes on a piano and how many different ways they can be arranged and how many instruments we can use to play them and the differing speeds and rhythms.

And I realized we won’t run out of music. The song only ends when our imagination fails. 

The River God's Daughter

Beware when you cast your net late at night

When the breeze is soft and the moon is bright

When silver ripples shake the dark water

O, do not look on the river god’s daughter

~

Go quickly to the temple in the moonlit glade

Where jeweled nagas climb down the balustrade

Go in and light an incense stick there

And kneel and press your hands in prayer

~

And hope it is she who takes his wrath

For longing to walk on a human path

Let her walk in her loneliness by the water

O, never pity a river god’s daughter