Stand with me
feel its energy
the many lives
some contrives
playing roles,
living lives.
I’m back inside
thinking about sets
imagining
moving moments.
For after all
the playwright
only asks we be true
to the words.
Stepping on again,
and feeling the energy,
the backdrops
and gobos,
all the different imagery
and dazzle goes into
creating moments.
Happy to hop along
this is where I belong.
~
a quiet walk
Ever we run
that stepping inside.
Could be undone
not losing a stride.
If only a moment
could be forever.
Might be less lament
a last minute trigger.
It’s those moments inside
with less wish we tried.
A fairy tale
Once, we wail.
If one time we let go
Then we might know.
Beyond any wall
Glass slippers and all.
When then the wolf
Snarling and aloof
Would then our why
Cause no longer a cry.
If inside a dream
We no longer scream.
In the real world
Our stories are told.
Only then might the tale
Our solemnity cradle.
Where are we
out here?
My life feels
the weight.
Carrying burdens
of choice for years.
Not knowing ever
how stirred up we were.
Omniscient theories
cross my mind.
~
Could this be,
simple and free,
this is how life should be,
less the insecurity.
~
Could we talk in circles
until out of breath
life decides this outcome
without any need for input,
we would be
who we now wish to be.
Oh to be lost inside a dream,
to not awaken,
to live inside its stream,
to be less spoken.
For there is a journey then,
languishing in the story,
when then we wonder when,
we might this mystery.
Well one moment feel secure,
another takes a dive,
such a travel is obscure
our reality feel so alive.
I stayed inside with wish to scream,
oh, help me now outside this dream.
Begins with a silent rain
Streets damp
Cloudy skies
Deep resonate aroma
Favorite coffee blend
Perhaps a robe
Suits a mellow day
A happy mystique
Would venture close
Light some candles
Maybe pray today
Might the adventure
Be this peace in its way.
If once I could step away
I might always want today.
If once I could step away
I might find another way.
If once when the hurt began
I might finally be that man.
If once when the rain I ran
I might have believed I can.
For now I won’t take a stand
I’ll only hope I might land.
I want to write something profound
Said the jailer
To the inmate.
Other way around
Came resentment.
My world to create
Not your own found
Freedom
While searching
one day in autumn
the sky was greying
a sign is solemnity.
If we
consider the fee
for living our lives
in a travesty.
We might forget
just how simple
our lives could be.
I posted a meme tonight about the essence of life, and what ought matter the most in our society, our world, our planet. The quote wasn’t my own. It appeared a scrawl on the side of a building like graffiti. It might have been photo-shopped but was effective. It spoke of how the planet doesn’t need more successful people, but instead needs more love and peace and healing. I was taken by it enough to believe it mattered.
I thought about it afterward and concluded with that age old question; what defines success in our lives? I think it meant being comfortable with ourselves to give to others rather than being wrapped up in having to prove our worth. Isn’t success simply being satisfied with who we are without measure? I found myself re-evaluating my life and once again treading the terrain of that slippery slope. What is my success story? I concluded it is undefined.
I have always had rough patches to go along with my happier moments. One would argue without the pain there would be less appreciation for the happier measures in our lives.
I have been through a difficult couple of years, times of which I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. So many cathartic miseries that somehow today are beginning to have positive meaning in my life.
So how do we measure success? How do I measure my own? Instead I would like to choose to live my life with the freedoms put before me. I would like to appreciate my life and the world around me.
That is my measure of success.
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