Perhaps if it were possible to address the past as we do our present companions, we would learn much more about what it means to exist in a fragment of time. We would speak to our former selves with words of wisdom and warning that we deem valuable to future success and break the boundaries that days, weeks, and years place on our knowledge. However, it may be fortunate that we cannot, indeed, advise ourselves from making- shall we say, less than admirable decisions, for then we would be left in a state that did not allow for our current existence.
What a paradoxical mess that would be!
So I suppose we can only reflect on the people we once were and the decisions we once made and those we once knew and realize that our lack of knowledge of the future led us to the very place we sit in this very moment. A place to some dictated by fate and to others merely by pure coincidence, but this place nonetheless.
How thankful I am that ignorance brought me here!
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 9:20 AM UTC
I only wished to tell you that
Your mind intrigues me
Like a spider web glittering
Your threads of thought entice me
To unravel their gossamer splendor
And understand their complexity
I wonder
How can such beautiful words
Come so naturally?
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
A mirror playing a silent motion picture that
Is alluring simply for the wonder it creates
Whispering
Secret messages only to those who know how
To listen to nothing at all.
So often I find my pen moving on its own
Without consulting the muscles that
Propel it forward.
Like the way my ears ring when I see you
Smile at nothing at all
No
Specifically something else that
Invisible to my eyes
Mocks me from across the room
Visions of the insane or
Simply driven by the
Unknowable
Unspeakable
Yet painful.
I don't understand why my words
Get hung up like clothes lines
After a summer storm
Dripping with precipitation
And glittering
But tangled just the same.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
How humorous are those curious little frames displaying works of art
They are becoming
Little presents wrapped in transparent paper teasing me with treasure within
I am becoming
A man drowning out at sea with the shores of his destination just in sight
You are becoming
The tree blowing in the wind indifferent to the bending of its branches
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
And so I proceed moving on
To napkin 3 a number
Sparred from my mindless
Ranting and instead allowed
To sing the beauty
Of your creation you hold
The guitar in your hands
No
Not the words that escape from your lips but
The way I feel your voice project
Underlying messages that
Move like a mountain range
Crashing into me?
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
What would be if I were to forget about him and his distant mind and let myself fall in love?
Because I don't understand why it is so difficult to avoid your glance
Or attempt to elicit it with my own.
There is so much about you that I forget when I've succumbed to his mystery
But there is so much more that inculcates in my brain
Scratching at its walls and
Painting pictures to be erased
And so I proceed to move on to napkin 3.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 1:11 AM UTC