taliendo

What do you do when the sky falls? The answer is simple - nothing. There's absolutely nothing you can do to change it or stop it, so you may as well roll with it. Don't try to validate your response, just live it and fuck everyone who decides to oppose you. They are wrong. Why? -- Because, that was your reaction to consequence and no one can take that away from you.

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I'm not sure what to think myself these days. I feel as if I have been stranded at a crossroads while someone else makes the decision of which road I now take. Its a sorrowful, lonely place and I'm frightened at which road may beckon, the path that I may end up walking down. Will it be a road of solitude? Will it be my very own trail of tears? Could it be full of expounding joy? Perhaps one of mediocrity? I only pray that you will be merciful in making your heart decide.

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The struggle can be one of greatness and retribution. I am here searching for answers, knowing where to find them even and yet moving not, stirring not. The anticipation of the finale of this great play is one of magnitudinal forces, pulling - never pushing - into a motionless void.

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My Faithfully Dangerous, oh, how I have not forgotten you. In last nights dancing in darkness, I saw you there once again. And life was as blessed as I could ever hope. Remember - "the heart that beats is your's inside of me." Together we were made and together we shall dance in eternity. Somehow I know and have always known that it is you - my juliet. The allusions that have taken place, necessary, painful, and in retrospect - rewarding. If I must write poetry, then I must write it to you.

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Another day quite as solemn as the one before. And do I have the ability to control? Do I have the ability to communicate the ramblings of my mind? I am not for certain. Perhaps my mind is so locked, even from myself, that it will never be undone. I do not paint myself fancy or elevated or above my fellow man in any way. Quite the opposite. I am but a lowly man surviving on the wits my father gave me. I am a lowly being, never having been fully connected, wholly open to anyone that I've met. In these most recent days I have realized that even my own mother's perception of my is full of lies an stories told by my own tongue. This saddens me, makes me awake, and yet changes me not. Only your great love could instigate the change so poorly and unabashedly needed.

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Quickly cover'd, never forgotten.
My head burns with the necessity of your presence.

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Patience is a thing that does not blow in the wind. It is the steadfast rock, standing high above even the clouds of this earth. I will grasp that rock and hold on with all my life, all my strength. When I am weary from this toil I shall call upon His name to give me strength -- Perhaps He will plant me in the rock. I would become one with the giant, the mountain. I will wait for my love to conquer the temptations of this world and in the end God will have conquered. I give Him the praise and the glory for that which He has and will bestow upon me. I give Him thanks for the sacrifices that I know he will give me the strength to endure. For He has seen my love and has judged it True.

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Simply looking, I saw the world and it was in pain. Although there was nothing wrong in the world itself. The inhabitants, actions, and emotions of the land had become sour, and the world looked down upon itself.

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Wish you were here, standing with me in the same frame of mind - with the same unjaded heart. I see you wavering and I will run away. The fall is yours to take, but please know that you are not the only one who will feel the repercussions of that great leap. Why would you give to another, a stranger, a question by taking from yours? You love me - Do you jest? Is this another game, hunting the mouse endlessly, the feline would not be contented. Have you taken ill? Perhaps in this fever you have misplaced your judgment, in this delirium you have forgotten that the sun stays lengthy and high in these heavens. Your heart stirs yet. There are a thousand tomorrows laid head to toe, each one a crisp and unmessed scrap of paper. Who will write their heart upon your page?

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Straddling a specter of crazed resolution,
A glint of solemn repose in his eye,
The wind rocked the night,
Fear added fat to the blaze
And another tear slipped silently down her cheek.

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With a suddenness there is a shift in symmetry,
As the world shimmies and tilts once more.

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I wish that I had words to do you visage honor. I crave the honesty that explodes in my heart as I peek upon your sleeping face. Your eyes, two flowers closed tight against the evening stars, only to open once again when the morning light finds his way back to you. My pen finds its way across your heavy laden brow and down to the roses that are you half-smiling cheeks. Your lips stand as two soldiers, ready to leap with passion at the first sign of objection. Their bite nearly as powerful as their kiss.

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I will refuse to change, even for the better of me. I cannot change, even for the better of you. Mainly because I understand that you are the better of me; because I know that I am the better of you. Why are you afraid? because this lies in Truth, because He whispers in your ear in the late hour when everyone yet sleeps?

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I am filled with such a rage that it empties me of everything. I am void and the sky opens up and pours forth for me. The waters come hard and like a plate, but soon enough the earth opens up and drinks them too. Everything is thirsty - all must drink to live - and I refuse. I refuse this life and this dream and myself. I cannot accept these things, this fate is too blind. What unsheltered boy awaits in the pouring and in the drinking and is not wetted? He is a stranger, a face forgotten in the tumultitude of the river which is this life. I am happy not, but complacency is subtle and it sneaks its way into my head and my heart and can change your walk forever; before you know that it is either here or gone. The pain lingers, but it too is muted; distance keeps the man inside the box, unable to cause severity to either himself or the other wandering aimlessly along. Is it finished? Far from and so the journey continues. the days grow long.

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-LIFE IS ABSURD-