so much time we waste,
sitting lonely in quiet rooms of if;
- if time could be undone.
- if decisions could be unmade.
- if only the words heard were spoken from platforms of conviction...
 
perhaps that's our purpose -
the us in the shadows. 
created without provision of discern.
destined to seek,
but never find. 
to touch but never feel. 
to give all that we have,
only to find reciprocation replaced with the nothing of does not matter.
empty.
vessels of could be placed on shelves of forgot.
 
surely there is little else in life more tragic than suppose.
to contemplate the contentment of accommodation, 
only to find it indisposed -
unavailable -
disposable camaraderie -
temporary compassion -
unsustainable as watercolors,
in the rain...

no deeper hurt
than being
thrown away;
disposable - relevance,
bio-de-grade-able - is...

unnecessary -
persistence to suppose.
what value referendums 
of remorse;
subjugation over the absence of those to impose?

opportunity -
tickets punched on train-cards of can;
discarded.


what if -
tossed from open windows of doubt.
trailing unopened parachutes -
of can't.

and there –without warning

(blown effortlessly away)

strong wind of indifference –

paper dreams crumbled –

set sail to shores of forget.

what then –

when shadows lose their cloak of obscure –

stand unencumbered in the light of is?

will the night have stolen our memories?

ravenous weasel of war?

oh, so sad –

realize.

much more appealing –

to drown in the tempestuous water of suppose.

i imagine –

days with you –

strolling through open doors,

passing through endless rooms of

contentment.

feeling close –

without the need to touch, we’d share that

which cannot be said.

instead of going past the

need –

by-passing the greed of

have-to-have –

lingering –

instead – on the very ledge

of -just enough…

your eyes hold secrets –

places i have never been –

realms of unclaimed pleasure –

i would die to comprehend!

As is the case with life, all things (good or bad) come to an end. I was once told that every true story ends in death. Of course I countered with two names, Enoch and Elijah. If there have been others, I am unaware. My point? No. Not abstract rambling. Actually, a day of clarity. For the past three years I have attempted to convey my perspective on events that have led up to my current state of affairs. Each time I deleted the words as they all touched a little too closely to wounds not yet healed. What I have found is that while time does have a healing affect, some hurts just take longer.

Perhaps these words will serve a prelude to my story so eager to be told. I suppose I should continue while in the vault, but time is not on my side. I rather hold the words until sufficient focus can be given. Come back tomorrow, if you will. Just keep in mind truth isn’t always considered universally balanced. At the end of the day, however, it is that which unlocks the door to acceptance.

Results may vary…

https://warptimes.medium.com/viral-charlie-kirk-quotes-fact-checking-the-claims-and-context-2be89f6e586d

Just for the value of free speech.

Have a blessed day…

my feelings –

alien to you as much as – secure is to timid,

shatter like shards of glass against your narcissistic walls…

how awesome,

it must be –

being you;

how – required!

pompous as an apostrophe –

owning possession,

and the power to unite –

yet completely – unaffected!

and while you dangle effortless,

unencumbered –

I remain tied to the weight of my own culpability.

necessary,

you are –

more than any imagined ownership.

for without you,

meaning is lost;

and I become irrelevant as a useless preposition –

alone – without the companion of my most reluctant,

yet oh so necessary –

object…

i often find myself promoting allegiance to faith –

especially to those struggling in arenas of doubt.

i challenge them to step out of the chains of fear so inappropriately self imposed.

parables recited.

miracles referenced.

volumes of scripture quoted.

most often,

it seems the effort in vain.

reformation available yet undesired.

it seems the accouterments of vanity supersede the paltry garments of sincere.

yet in this season of contradiction,

i find my reservoir of believe nearly drained.

how can i offer admonition for religious insurrection

while wearing transparent Alb of supposed conviction?

who am i to stand behind pulpits of discern

with eyes closed to the inferiority of my own diminished capacity?

i suppose –

if measuring the volume of could in the much larger vessel of should –

we all find opportunity for replenishment.

and sometimes –

when feeling less than full –

perhaps a patch..

broken

of dying