I Have a Secret To Tell You...

Reality is socially constructed.

All Things Are Done in Season

All things are done in season.
Hesiod knew it thousands of years ago.
Jesus too has once reminded.
When Orion stretches the dark horizon
His hunters chasing the summer stars
Into hibernation, I too, retreat.

It is then that I know.
Never straight was my path to Polaris.
The cosmos immortality against
Chaos and mortality.
Never clear was the path that
The ancients charted through centuries.

Were that I were a star.
Before the ages to be a place of beckoning
A constant relief from suffering.
Immovable, even the farthest and dullest
That speckle the sky.
Kolob I cannot find.
The darkness clouds my mind.
It is not my season.

A Welding Reference

Scoot Scoot is up and running again despite the horrendous story I had previously attached to the undeniably terrible outcome. Sounds familiar.... The nice man at Discount Muffler and Welding didn’t even charge me for the whole fix minutes it took him to weld my muffler back on Scoot (whom I am seriously considering renaming Anomaly).

Maybe all of my welding problems are more basic than I make them out to be. Perhaps the time I spend turning it over and over in my head has a snowball effect. I’d believe it. I wonder what kind of tools people need to re-weld broken relationships and broken hearts. I doubt it is five minutes or free.

Shakespeare did NOT have to worry about MLA.

So I stretch
Reach
Jump
Strain and wonder why it is always
Always
Out of sight.
It is always the next step. The next project. The next scheduled day.
The next adventure and the next break.
You cannot learn about Thoreau in a classroom.
Condemning the institution.
The very walls that hold me in.
The very social structures that close my mind.
Banish self-reliance.
Can you see them on a poster?
Can you hear the effulgent thunder?
Claws at the heart.
I want a Walden.
I want to remember what it felt like to laugh for no reason.
No reason….
The words are in the way
Of that perfect silent heaven.
The thoughts are in the way
Of that perfect simple haven.
A gift or curse.
Easy transition.


I know.
(This much I know)
I know that I was made for something out of ordinary.
What I don’t know is when I’ll find the courage to do it.
Why oh why did God make me this way?

I miss the answers from the waves....

Observe the mind.... Smile at it.

~The Power of Now

When sorrows [changes] come
they come not single spies
- but in battalions

~Hamlet
William Shakespeare