suffix

the clouds are trying. they will the season. the landscape breathes out a quiet surrender, ready or not. am i ready? i turn my glance against the wind, water fills the lens, stings as i contemplate my progress. the things i thought were important to me are only important to other people whose thoughts were important to me once.

i turn back down the mountain and across the saddle of two, affixing my desires on a very personal agenda. i reflect on myself through a pond of honesty, below the crisp and subtle fog. this is real. i'm tired of trying to meet life where other people say it should be. what if this is where i'm at? this is where i'm at. life will just have to meet me here. if i know all that i know, my whole heart and soul understands the only way to reach pure happiness is to define happiness for oneself; a reasoning unencumbered by others' variations of its meaning (even ones' own). one must consciously afford the will to make someone else happy or to truly make the self happy. and if life is really as short as i know that it is, then may i sigh relief and understanding; for all these things i'm after,...all these efforts towards something i'm scurrying to do… this idea of completion, happiness, success... have a way of keeping me from the ultimate joy. what i actually end up "being," has little substance if through the process i was never actually being.

the weather approaching hurries us: prepare, prepare, prepare. and no matter how much we prepare, it often feels as though we are never ready enough. when is just being, just enough? how much faith do i have in the now, that what i have right now is enough? if i weren't ready, it wouldn't happen. if it wasn't meant to be, it wouldn’t be. ready or not, i'm ready.~

[city lights]

me and the extremes;
comin down and so much closer than you think.
between the candle and the flame,
we put away the smoke and pick things up again.
take away the night and the sun;
heaven is here between the lines of love.~

come strange to me

come strange to me, these were shades of life turning in my window without me there.
i’ve come fretful of the shadows on the wall, not the hope once drawing circles in the dark,
fading in upon dreams i’d swear to embark;
i’d swear don’t swear -
these dreams are never quite whats there,
but come strange to me, and whisper in the shades, a peaceful air. ~