I wiped away every memory you left me with,
as I printed the messages like you wrote me letters,
sealed them in in envelopes,
but boxes marked incinerate,

I waded through knee deep snow,
carrying a box full of memories while wearing some I couldn't let go,
I removed your sweater off my back and created a fire from the tear stained sleeves,
I burned the rest with the box, and cried over the memories that couldn't go away,

I lay down into the snow, holding onto your memories that went too deep,
crying because I can't remember some of the things you did with my body,
crying because I honestly wouldn't wanna know.
like as if  crying would honestly allow me to let go,

you used to tell me things like how I didn't have to worry about my makeup,
or how I didn't have to worry about everyone,
and how you told me you loved me despite my flaws,
like the ones covered over my whole body,

and yet you tricked me,
so I'd let you in,
I was weak and you hurt me,
you don't deserve me,

but who would deserve me,
other than you,
you ruined me,
and I'm the fool.

The most common magic trick I've ever seen is making a 100mm stick disappear.
It is the oldest trick in the book.

Everyone knows how it’s done but everyone is always never tired of being the audience to it.
Maybe it’s because the audience is always invited to take part in the act.

The trick is always done by a stressed magician,

The trick mocked by kids trying to imitate the 100mm disappearing stick trick.
They hide under the pretence of being stressed.

They disgrace the world class performers that had practiced the routine so much throughout their lives.
Never quitting
And
Always over rehearsing.

The performers would always keep practicing until it becomes its second nature like breathing.

Until it becomes like a habit,
Until they become too passionate to the routine on perfecting the make-believe act.
That they are too obsessed to  realized they had become addicted to it.

They had become too reliant over it and that they can't live without it.
Even on their last breath they would attempt to show its final performance and draw its strength from it.

The most common magic trick I've ever seen involves a 100mm stick disappearing.
The trick is like every other disappearing magic act.
First the object is lit on fire with a light,
Second the smoker kisses the object and takes a deep inhale praying the performance would go well.
Third you get distracted by the smokes given off in the exhale
And ...ta da.
While the Smoke rises
It is estimated
14 minutes of the magician's life disappearing.
However the audience is too focused on the main act of the 100mm stick disappearing to notice.

Imagine seeing someone you thought cared
And on Halloween knocking on their door
And saying trick or treat
Then watching them smile
Then say, "close your eyes"
You trust them
And close your eyes

But when you open them
There is no one there
Only a note that says
Trick
I never truly cared

Imagine that hopelessness
Imagine that feeling of despair

Now multiply that feeling by 1000
And you'll be close to how I feel
*Every **** day

Today I bought a square plate
it's not for me, but for an enemy
that I could do worse things to, if I was a less noble person
as the things they've done I will not speak.

The plate is porcelain and quite finely made
elegant and excellently finished for how not so pricey it was
hints of history seems to hide in it's shell--
as seams are weaved into
what has probably lived a long and unused existence
this handcrafted masterpiece.

Separately painted by some fancy artist
to whom I do not recognize the name of,
although it is said he may have done something wrought with his ear
or did this man's uncle make this plate, oh well, I am unsure.

It is these very details to why,
I am now in possession of this piece of the past
that will be priceless to those who know more craftsmanship,
at least more knowledgeable than the man who sold it to me.

From the gleaming in your eyes
I can tell this plate may even mean a great deal to you
is this true my good friend?
oh well, I guess I can give the plate to you
instead of the devil I spoke of before.

*As I handed my prize to them
it began to feel heavier than any ordinary plate should,
gravity granted the greatest reprise I've ever sought
as the demon's face whelmed with depression
and mine satisfaction--
for being such a convincing storyteller.

May you tell me why it is that a magician pulls a rabbit out of a black top hat?

Why had that become such an amusing tradition?

What was he thinking?

What was his reason for this rabbit?

Is it because it is deemed adorable and thus he believes shall appeal to the crowd?

Or was it the only animal in the shop he could get his hands on at the time?

Maybe it was a borrowed neighbour's pet?

Was this new magician a former vet?

That white rabbit, pink-eyed and cute.. where does he go scampering off to off set?

Is it even really a rabbit or an impossibly tiny man in a hand sewn suit?

These questions are all important.

Why are they important?

Because they distract me from other real questions:

Why is it that us humans haven't recognized wholesomely our true purpose?

We have existed for centuries..
yet no firm, world wide acceptance and truth as to why we are here..

But there ARE news and breakthroughs about new technology, warfare gear, entertainment, pleasure, fashion, luxury and outer space.

We seem to know everything else except about ourselves ..

What is our collective purpose?

What is our individual purpose?

Is there is a purpose?

Of course there is.

Where can I find it?

How may I find it?

Honestly... I'll figure it all out...
and when I do.. I will tell you.

In the mean time...I wonder:

Why it is that a magician pulls a rabbit out of a black top hat?


11:11pm Tuesday 28th July,2015.

---

A nymph of the woodlands Echo ran
With huntress Dianna
With strength of man

Beautiful creatures
The nymphs were
Attracting Zeus, his heart stirred

Echo had a downfall
In her earthly walk
She had the last word
When she talked

Haughty Hera was Zeus's wife
Jealous women will cause strife

She went looking for her man
But clever Echo had a plan...

She drew the goddess to
Her verbal web
Had the last word to whatever said!

A vengeful god her anger licked
When she found that she was tricked

"You always wanted the last word?
Well, my dear, you
WILL BE HEARD.

But evermore you'll have a lack
You'll not start conversing...
YOU'LL ANSWER BACK !!!"

Poor Echo wandered
woodlands fair
In depression and despair

She was deep in love you see
With Narcissus, his great beauty

But she could never talk to him
So she was treated like the wind

Echo with her broken heart
In hills and caves began to haunt

'Til she simply faded away
These places she still haunts today.

As rock and stone she became

Call her, SHE WILL SAY HER NAME.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/28/2015