Hollow Hands ... Within these tears

Hollow Hands

As time clicks away each minute, second by second the emptiness around closes in on me
Dauntless, the loneliness teases and taunts me, whispering cheap creaks through the cracks in the floor boards
The space is welcoming; the walls are forgiving, cold, and somewhat friendly
Hollow hands reach for my friendship, mimicking laughter imitates joy, and satisfaction protrudes nowhere near me.
Lost words, broken thoughts, searching for something to distract me by sight
The lone night presents a faulty security; in truth it’s dangerous and threatening
I am here, self secluded, compellingly weak and sad
I wasn’t ready, ready to be alone without you.
Yet here I stand, by myself

Within these tears

Within these tears you will find confusion and frustration fighting for my emotional attention

You will find beauty redefined through pain and a darken awakening

Within these tears you will find a trek decorated with sporadic discomfort and delirious joy

You will find true expression and literal feeling

Within these tears you will see my heart beat flutter for survival, for life inside this skin struggles to live

You will find a stripped core, bare, naked and cold, soothed by the idea of a passing loneliness

Within these tears you will find the truth about me, the open book of my soul

Before I met you ...

A tribute to the one who has explained through expression and action what love is ... to me.

Before I met you ...

I’ve loved you all of my life before I knew who you were. I wanted to feel your touch before I knew the hand that would reach for my face or embrace my finger tips right before our hands coupled together as one.

I wanted to capture your gaze before I knew the color of your eyes, the length of hesitation preceded by a blink, or the unique way each eyelid fell before you found comfort in sleep. I wanted to know the scent of your skin before I knew the tone it naturally radiates.

I wanted to feel the kisses you would offer me before memorizing their puck before each peck or long embrace. I wanted to know the sound of your laugh or what makes you laugh in life before becoming familiar with your smile. But I wanted to become familiar with your smile before I heard the words of “I love you” slip from your lips, pushed out by your tongue.

I wanted to know your urges, because I wanted to know how to excite them or appease them rather. I wanted to know the taste of your soul before knowing your favorite foods. But I wanted to know your favorite foods, so that I could gain an easy entrance into your heart.

I wanted to know what inspires your mercy before stepping in the shadow of your grace. I wanted to know your nightmares, so that I could placate them with new dreams. Most of all, I couldn’t wait to feel the “I love you” part that we would share on an overwhelming level, a level that proceeds any imagination one could invoke.

I have loved you all of my life, by choice, not by choice, by will, by desire, by demand, by a passion that balances the unseen worlds of spirituality and the heavens. I will love you all the days of my life, because I wanted to love exactly who you are, before I met you.

Love ... is not conversational

Confession: While attempting to understand the concept of what motivates and drives true love and passion, I have began to explore the idea that love is not conversational, it is expressional. Often it can be manipulated and tortured in an attempt to portray the real thing, but in the end, imitations are exposed as the true fakes that they are. Love and pain, in their relationship that fuels this world and the relationships that are involved within it, deserves our undivided attention. This is just the beginning. Enjoy.

Love cannot possibly be understood through conversations or gestures motivated with indolence and minuet thought. Love is much too complex for that sort of deception and silliness, because it dilutes the message as well as feeling; thus, presenting a false illusion that escartz’s it way around this world, engendering imitations and lingering emptiness. Love itself, so powerful by its very own nature, demands a deeper collection of expression, one coupled with an affluence of passion, forded by heart as well as truth. Love not only demands this, but it feeds, breathes, and lives from this. As such the warrior stands on the battle field, waiting to spill blood or exchange his own, in the name of liberation or perhaps a fiery goal of domination, so does the lover who springs at the thought of exploiting his soul if that secures his prize.

Faithfully and notably, loving the one you’re with provides battle burns and stings the wounds of those who have truly loved and warred over the very privilege to do so. Lifting your heels a few inches off the dirt, feeling the arch in your feet bend a little bit more, your skin around your toes tightens from the intensity, you raise your arms waving to the wind hello-goodbye, shushing your heart to alleviate its eagerness, as you prepare yourself to survive the fall to grace. The very process is too demanding and consuming to comprehend all at once, for our eyes close from time to time, hoping to savor every fleeting moment. The dire need of a deep breath on the way down proves catalytic for a moment of remembrance towards the purpose before hitting the ground, making the landing a little bit softer; or at the very least justifiable. Love understands no bounds; it’s just not in its character. It drives its own self at times and stands alone waiting to feel the reciprocation at its feet. Love demands epic greatness, all of which we are more than capable... of experiencing. Love ... is not conversational, it is a language of expression coupled with passion and in depth meaning from the soul, heart, and spirit combined.

The Precursor of a Thought

Confession: Interestingly enough, my mind has wandered into the land of what a thought really is, and the process of it occuring in your mind before it manifest itself into reality. When you are faced with time, time spent alone, the mind can become an alteration of images of a reality that you may become familiar with later. I find it fascinating to look at the way thoughts work and how they transpire into actions, particularly dark ones. I am always looking at the upside of something, so I thought, why not explore the negative or dark spots of thoughts. So, anyways, here is just a random thought I put on paper, took me about 10 minutes to get it out. I love random thought writing time, I always surprise myself with what is going on in my mind. I just wish I could catch all the fleeting ones that get away. :o) Enjoy.

Sometimes, I hate to be alone with my thoughts; it can be a scary place to be. Presenting different outcomes, changing the course of your life, and, perhaps or, treading in unfamiliar territory, looms in the shadows of each passing façade of the imaginary reality that can formally introduce itself one day. The temptations of the “what-ifs” that transition between your neurons, teasing your conscience and decision making skills, can be legerdemain as well as threatening. Deceptively lust, greed, envy, gluttony, and more embryonic manipulators, cast their appearance with an illusionary dress that seems appeasing as well as appealing. The mind’s playground can unintentionally allow the twisting and burning of love to the ground, all the while, lifting up the spirits of the dark only to blindingly confuse it for light. Searching for the sound of sanity can be hard when footprints lead to a different path, one that stimulates the senses and situates itself as equal to the one you were really looking for. Tis, tis, tis, when the thoughts of the unreal becomes a reality; how do you escape the imprints that will be forever scripted into your soul, is an inspiring rhetorical statement to consider. How do you beat grief and guilt, anger converted into rage, and pain replaced by the blood of a dying life that you once lived before you? Decisions, decisions, oh how they affect unmannered emotions, all the while affecting every part of our very existence, down to where we sit, as to oppose to where we could have sat; this or that games our thoughts play. Thoughts are the precursor to actions, which invoke the reactions of our lives. So, have we missed out on the true evaluator of what fords us through this life of ours? Being alone with my thoughts, truth be bold and told, can be a scary, scary place to linger.

Where do your thoughts lead you?