Solitude

Solitude is my friend. It is like an emptiness that enfolds me. The kind of void like an empty room. I love to hear my footsteps echo. I especially love to sing in an empty room and hear my voice bounce off the walls and high ceiling, as if it were singing to itself. Solitude gives me the silence that I need to think, to create, to write. Solitude gives me the space to explore my mind and my dreams. To figure out what to do next. What to plan and how to live. Solitude is a friend of mine that rarely comes to visit, but is always very welcomed.

Another day...

Another day has gone.
Another line etched on my face.
Another battle with time, lost.
Another opportunity to be happy has passed me by.
And yet, here I remain, unbothered by that.
The lines, time, and opportunities will have another go at me tomorrow.
For now, I just have to breath, take it all in.
I just have to think of how I must do it all over again;
how I must smile and hide my tears,
how I must please everyone but me,
how I must spend my precious time on people so unworthy of it.
Only to give the scraps leftover to the only deserving person of all.
And all she gets is the tired remains of my day.
And yet she is happy and grateful for those sacred moments we share.
It saddens me... that she is satisfied with so little,
and I cannot offer her any more than that.

To my love

To the one who has always been there...
To the one who loves me just as I am...
To the one who is worthy of my heart and soul...
To the one who listens to my thoughts...
To the one who is fair and wise...
To the one who I can talk to anytime...
To the one who is still here for me now...
To the one who is almighty...
To the one who was and is and always will be...
To the one who died for me...
To the one who I love with all that I have...
To the one savior of my life.

In search of something great

As I awake from a restless slumber I recall why I am here. She stirs beside me and calls me. She is thirsty and wants a glass of water. So up I go in search for my slippers and then down the hall to the kitchen. I search for a glass, first in the cabinets and then on the rack. Finally I locate one in the dishwasher. I rinse it and place it on the counter as I open the ice box. I search for the pitcher of cold water. I pour some in the clean glass about two-thirds full. And place the pitcher back in the ice box. I turn off the light and head back to the bedroom. She is asleep again. I sigh and place the glass of cold water on the bed stand. I am now fully awake, unable to find sleep. So I search for a book in my bag. Yes, that one with the red dust cover, that's the unfinished one I look for. I take it and head back down the hall, but this time towards the couch in the living room. I turn on the lamp and sit down for the remainder of the dark morning. I read and search within the confines of my thoughts. I search and as my breathing slows and becomes rhythmic I find it. I find what I have searched for all night. I find peace. And all is well again.

To be...

To be silent
To be scared.
To be alone.
To be blind.
To be broken.
To be numb.
To be bitter.
To be lost.
To be empty.
This is to be me.

All in a smile...

All in a smile I hide all my pain.
I pretend it does not hurt and I wipe my tears away.
All in a smile I hide my past.
I pull my sleeves down and hide my scars.
All in a smile I hide my fears.
I shrug away a shiver and put on a brave front.
All in a smile I hide my thoughts.
I keep my mind open and yet close my heart.
All in a smile I hide my self.
So you see what you want, but never have what you need.
All in a smile...

A little welcome.

So you find yourself in a beautiful house. But it's empty. You wander from room to room and yet there is no sign of life, no furniture, no curtains... only the smell of fresh paint. "Hmm," you think to yourself. Must be a model home. That would be me. You walk over to the french doors that lead out to the back yard, a spacious, grass-covered back yard and you glance out one of the many windows and you think you hear laughter. That would be me, laughing at you. You open the door, step outside and take a deep breath in. You feel good. The breeze blows and the hair on the back of your neck stands. That would be me, tickling you. You turn quickly around and see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. That would be me, abandoning you. You go back the way you came and eventually leave the empty house. As you close the door you shake your head and you wonder where I am. You wonder what is missing. You wonder what you need. But I am still not there. I am never there. I am only in your head. You are really insane. Get a life.