Harmonizing (day 1027)

For all that I could remember, for all I could ever remember, for all the times that I dusted off my aching knees to build up my power of love that thrust my gold into the clear blue skies; it was all I was, all I cared to be, all I had dreamed of being, all that was allowed to rest – to be the remnants of some hard played game digging into worn parts of my gloves.

For without these delightful glories (curdling my cream and harmonizing my deep south Presbyterian choir) I was merely a soldier. A hard edged, fine tuned, stainless steel blade of America’s finest earth (plus of course the blood, sweat, and rock hard fists heft my direction). Hardly left a consequence upon my check-marked debriefing.

Here I stood in future’s year, inhaling deep to remember what it felt like laying on the freshly mowed grass in the heat of summer, slow moving cars rolling along manicured gravel. An itch, creeping in and lingering a while as momma’s freshly squeezed – and heavily iced – lemonade tinkled around inside a transparent and sweating summer repair.

But now I wasn’t heading here or there. I wasn’t coming or going. I wasn’t even known amongst the squirrels and bluejays and Chester, the neighbor’s dog, had wilting flowers.

You cannot crush what once lived inside a boy. A man can not fall flat and lie upon his back and let these thoughts turn and turn and turn without the understanding of what has come to pass. Much like Tchaikovsky’s flurrying madness, torrent thoughts arrest my secret moments until the uneven dice with blank looking stares roll the number five five times in a row. To end a second chapter but never ending. Never an end. Never to be ended.

Without knowing then, I was knocking at a door I had left without looking back. A door that still had a mesh pane to keep out the flies. A door that creaked and banged shut no matter how slow it was released. A door that acted as the liaison between country folk and their well meaning manner. A door that punctuated my knocking and brought old – as in aging – footsteps squinted hard to recognize the stranger the stood just on the other side.

Dark (day 425)

You will run but you cannot escape my all seeing, all knowing eye
Forget not that I see no boundaries, I will peer through that mask
Directly at the shadowed eyes that burn fists of fire through my soul
I will not let you run with your heels of fire digging into my sin
Resting for only little bits of laughter let loose into the blue nights sky
Late the raven calls upon the unsuspecting pray as it lies in shame
Hidden beneath the oak tree, wasted as if perturbed by an inescapable fate

Gather your storms you mighty Gods
Forgive me not for my ugly sins
Forgive the rain for soiling the earth
Giving it light and day
But not I, the doer of dark

In time the noose shall loosen from around the bitter Apollo’s neck
Released from the havoc that only the underground animals shall ever know
Hidden from the gems that ignite the last memories of a dying man
Crying from the birth that has taken place in time since we last spoke
And pacing restlessly along the cold stone candle lit memories
Trying to rid my withered bones of the transcendental war
Do not forget to close the door as you step inside the chamber of health