1000 posts later,
I am here and you are there.
Though time has worn our bodies,
our minds can still remember.
The ages when we used to ponder about the coming day that is.
Though the night may be upon us now,
the sun will breech from beyond the edges.
The light pouring in as a child from labor.
I used to think that the future will be so great,
and how that might not be,
there is still you and me.
My memories found in floating bag,
lives forgotten, pasts rewritten but never erased.
The beauty around takes my breathe away,
an exhale, held.
A breeze lost from the wind.
The air is still tonight but it smells of the crinkled lives that have passed.
Each has its own story, found in a vivid color.
I look to them for answers,
kneeling in the grass carefully and lifting them to my ear.
When the soft light hits, she sings a silent tune.
I listen to her voice for a moment but do not stop.
I can call to her but I already know what I must do
so I put her to the ground and let her rest
as the music from within her ends.
I lose myself for a moment only to pick it back up in another step.
The acoustic guitar sifts into the background as flour into a bowl.
The night comes early this time of year and the bitter comes with the wind.
There is an air in the wind, of something… else.
I know it like back of my neck, and long to see it one day beyond a mirror.
When the corners of my world gather onto themselves I shall then know what is to be.
But a sound in the distance of my mind bring me back from thought and into the page.
Once again, my friend, I see words among the greatest of pages and thoughts that track into the fields of the beyond.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And - which is more - you’ll be a Man my son!
- Jean Cocteau
My friends had a little line for everyone and that was mine. Love them so much!