maidens of error
missteps, mistakes, mishaps ...
milestones to wisdom






Mark Toney © 2022

Accepting responsibility and learning from your mistakes are milestones to wisdom.

We talk in spoons. It’s an alchemy of sorts, though we don’t seek gold or eternal youth. A whole world of research says this curse is real. Yet Medicine has Science bound and starved. We resort to picking the threads of work that we find, weave from it our spells and our hope. Pin to it her everyday dreams. And though they are flimsy her dreams are beautiful simplicity: A five minute walk, or fifteen sat on the beach. A trip out, but maybe stay in the car. Ten minutes looking at clothes online, or coming downstairs if the windows are shut and we close the blinds. It is all connected, strung together like beads. If she showers today, she can’t go for a walk ‘til next week. She stretches too far then I worry she’ll ping, and I don’t know if I could string her together again. For now some dreams are too heavy. She’s removed them, hidden them like treasure. She brings them out when she can. Handles them, turns them to see if they shine in the gloom. These dreams are more prone to fracture, to shatter at a set time.

Anxious.
Feeling insufficient.
Knowing I'm insufficient.
Wanting insufficiency.
Not quite sufficient.
Comparing and contrasting.
Contrasting.

Wanting acceptance to be my most authentic self.
What is my most authentic self?
Where do I find her?

Focusing on the next milestone.
Getting there and doing the same.
What do we meet at the milestone?
Will be happy will be content will be accepted will be winning,
at the next milestone.

How do you live in the present moment?
What is the present moment?

Milestones Toward Oblivion
by Michael R. Burch

A milestone here leans heavily
against a gaunt, golemic tree.
These words are chiseled thereupon:
"One mile and then Oblivion."

Swift larks that once swooped down to feed
on groping slugs, such insects breed
within their radiant flesh and bones ...
they did not heed the milestones.

Another marker lies ahead,
the only tombstone to the dead
whose eyeless sockets read thereon:
"Alas, behold Oblivion."

Once here the sun shone fierce and fair;
now night eternal shrouds the air
while winter, never-ending, moans
and drifts among the milestones.

This road is neither long nor wide . . .
men gleam in death on either side.
Not long ago, they pondered on
milestones toward Oblivion.

Keywords/Tags: oblivion, milestones, markers, tombstones, radiation, fallout, nukes, winter, path, destruction, Armageddon, Apocalypse, nuclear, a-bomb, atomic bomb, hydrogen bomb, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Bikini Atoll, Manhattan Project, Trump, planet, earth, war, violence, America, environment, holocaust

I would like you to stay.
Stay where you've always been-
Where I once was. I would like you to stay
Here
With me. And I know that it is wrong and
Selfish
to even express
How still I long for you to stay- but I cannot bare the bruise
Of another milestone
Whipped at my head
though they're not even mine.

I never thought I would become all that I now am. I never thought I was this capable of hurting myself. I never thought I would be this alone surrounded by all the things I love and understand. I never thought this would happen so early on;
The great distance left bearing only heavier weights.

So I'll take whatever milestones I can
And abuse their theoretical beauty

The sleep

and breaking of my bones-

My last and final duty.

CORNERSTONE: definition (noun) the chief foundation on which something is constructed or developed

Come with forceful wills
Over the hills and desert bleak
Reach for inner greatness
Not returning, but a smiling cheek
Every trick has its trade
Remember that, and it's usefulness
Stones break over a sharpened edged blade
Towers will fall wayside by forceful winds made
Only desire keeps the flame burning
Is now a time to overcome?
Everything you find yourself yearning?
It is upon Cornerstones... we are made

I notice the way
lovers linger at each other
for two seconds longer
and how
you mumble along to that tune
escaping from your right earbud.
The gallery cafe holds
artists in a room full of art
and I feel as if I'm
interrupting something
special
here.
I'd frozen that expression
portrayed by his features-
glowing when she'd
waltzed in;
tucked it into my bursting pocket as another stolen moment
and I think
love
is a funny thing.
Untouched
yet experienced
and I wonder why he
had eyes for her
and how long they'd last
or how he'd chosen
that particular song;
lyrics involuntarily memorized
for what other reason than fondness;
or how after knowing someone for longer than your memory can recall
that the creases in their index finger
is as familiar as the back of your hand;
so can all these emotions
overflowing with
serotonin and
caffeine,
dopamine and
adrenaline
be classified as love?
I think it can.

// Is this a milestone or ongoing progress? //