Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
String Theory. A theoretical framework in which the point-like particles of particle physics are replaced by one dimensional objects called strings. In string theory, the multiverse is an idea in which our universe is not the only one; many universes exist parallel to each other where all possibility has potential as the universes are theorized to be infinite.

When I heard this for the first time, I imagined us all on this giant carousel, spinning in the infinite, to the ***** music of fate.

And the possibility was sweet, like cotton candy. And the potential seemed to rise like tidal waves and I was filled with joy for the other versions of myself doing great things out there somewhere.

Writing lullabies to star children. Kissing ink blotches on to skin like paper. Replacing the light bulb in the moon. Dreaming love into reality.

And I began to imagine the strings stretched and rotating, propeller like, in a theoretical game of double dutch. Fighting back my desire to move too quickly.  Feeling my body sway and rushing in too soon.

And I was sad for all of the versions of me that are struggling. Failing to see the beauty in the gutter. Walking alone in the rain... still. Writing quarky signs on information superhighway off ramps, like:

Quantum Mechanic.
Will tune your Hadron Collider
for food.

And I began to remember the geometrical string patterns we would draw on graph paper in math class. And knowing somehow, even then, that they stood like a veve for infinite possibility. And I began to wonder what would happen if I'd chosen differently at key moments in my life. The infinite outcomes circling like ashes falling down.

Would I be bigger? Smarter? Stronger? Easier to Love?

And the web began to stretch until it was bigger than my simple mind.

And I began to wonder at the insignificant moments. The moments overlooked. And I began to toy with the possibility that our fate is truly ******* in these moments. It was these choices that determine how easy we are to love. And how it would unfold into a chess match of a million different decisions until it was so far out of reach that it was painful to consider.

And these strings, interwoven and bundled “bigger than the sky”. Marionette strings to just as many possibilities as stars. Or more.

A universe where these strings are ropes binding sails to boats and time is the ocean.
A universe where music is medicine and I could sing your broken heart back to hope.
A universe where we could leap from place to place so I could find my young self and say,
“Listen. Don't try so hard. It gets better. And you become so much cooler. And though it seems so important now, it isn't. And guard your heart a little more than you do. And a little less.”

A universe where touch is talk. And to dare is normal. And our hearts are fluent in every language.

And then the notion of the strings as veins. Veins that form a complex system in a beautiful body of flesh and possibility and star dust so much greater than ours. With limbs and hands and heart and eyes and tongue and soul. And this body of possibility is not the only one. Other possibilities are forming other bodies. And this greater celestial body is interacting with other bodies comprised of infinite possibility all making decisions at light speed which will cause it all to reverse or go round again.

And in this framework.

We are you.
And he and I are we.
And once is always.
And never is nothing.
And I am everything.

And we are all the same celestial body.
Made from the same strings.
The same gift of possibility.

We are the carousel.
And anything, anything is possible.

And through it all. All I can do is wonder how...

How do I get back to the version of me where you didn't leave.
*Quick Note. Sorry. I wrote this awhile back. This little beast was angry. I needed to put some distance between he and I before I posted him. But here he is.*
I could be anything the way I wish
A bowlful of food an empty dish
A blade of grass or a redwood tree
But I want to be the way you want me.

I could be anyone the way I wish
Furrowed forehead or smiles that please
A heart rigid or a mind that’s free
But I want to be the way you want me.

I could be a face covered with veil
A man of dogma or with free will
Kissing wind or a stinging bee
But I want to be the way you want me.

I could be the man I thought I must
Winner in suspicion loser in trust
A narrow stream or the boundless sea
But I want to be the way you want me.
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Jacqui
Me.
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Jacqui
Me.
My heart feels light
and my head is clear
I can breathe.
My time is to focus on me.
Not you, not her, not us, not we, just me.
It may seem rude, or maybe selfish,
but I cannot care.

The sky seems blue
and my smile is bright.
Worry no longer plagues my heart.
Deep breaths.
In and out.
Out and in.
This is a time for me.

I must love myself with extraordinary passion before I push to love you.
My passion is extending for miles and the weight has been lifted.
I am free from all the shadows of the night
and all the aggressiveness that I would fight.

My smile is bright.
My heart is light.
The sky is blue.
My head is clear.
Solace engulfs my air.
12/13/13
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Caroline K
Her hands are almost empty.
Her bouquet is not as bountiful
as it once was.
She has begun to hand out
her roses, as if they were mere daisies.
All that is left, are the throes
lasting impressions
upon her milk skin.
Time ago, she would have never allowed
for so many roses to be missing.
She craves the tender hands
whom watered her
and allowed blossoming
to appear in front of their eyes.
Before she held her ground,
roots as strong as the
ancient willow tree.
This time, she allowed
the poison of her own fears
to destroy the web she carefully constructed.
For the game she wanted to keep
was not going to get caught
in the same beauties.
Tears slide down her cheek
past her rosy lips,
the death of such a beautiful soul.
For maybe her own eyes
are the pair that
are able to properly
worship the fallen petals.
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
SE Reimer
the clarion call
of the goose
in times gone by
the sound
like sweet waters
known well to his flock
a band of brothers
yet today, his call
on the heels
of a sharp report
a different sound
an urgent message
a call to gather
a call to protect
a call to form
a circle of hope
of encouragement
for not just
a better day
but a brighter path
shinning
because this journey
when taken in lockstep
wing to wing
together flying high
cannot fail to arrive
more rested
more able
more protected
this brighter path.
Post script.

linked to http://hellopoetry.com/poem/lend/
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Ogden Nash
Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Morie
Your words
foolery;
a mockery of my heart.
My trust
destroyed.
And my head now a fog,
from the rose colored glasses
that you placed on my face
back then,
glued to my sight
of you.
I know no truth
and I beg,
beg to know why.
Why did you even bother
my foolish misguided heart.
You should
and will
be ashamed.
You're better than that.
A soulmate is rare
and you,
you are blind
to red devilish pain
that will engulf your heart.
You are now
a stranger,
one whom I couldn't wish I never met.
For you destroyed me
with your apathy,
indecision,
lack of thought.
I cry I hurt,
I scream your name.
And you,
nothing but a silent ear;
You're better than that.
When you are broken
and on the ground,
crying
hurting,
screaming for the truth;
I will meet you there.
I tell the truth,
My lies are real.
They're as solid as,
Titanium steel.
You can trust me,
With all your secrets.
From shallow,
To the deepest.
No, I promise,
I've changed.
Everything's already arranged.
People were talking,
That's weird.
None of your secrets,
Have I shared.
No,
Please,
Don't leave.
You can
Trust me.
he
He was the blue sky
She was the rain
He was the sunshine
Who took away all her pain

She was the black sky
In the middle of the night
He was the brightest star shining Reasurring her
That it will be alright

She's an old untuned piano
With dust on the keys
But he sits down
And makes beautiful music from her
But she never ever will see

He was the smell
After the rain
She was like the seasons
Always eager to change

He tastes like cigarettes and jack
She is at war with herself
Ready to attack

He has the  universe in his hand  
The world in his palms
She has nothing to live for
She sits alone writing song after song

His soul is full of awe
His eyes are filled with wonder
Her heart is much too cold
Down her life it plundered

He is like a warm summer breeze
Setting all souls at ease
And she is like these cold december nights
Always
Chilling
Always causing a fright
Next page