ir a principal |
Ir a lateral
Even though there's less than a lip in between,
I can clearly see where you end, I begin
to wait for symbols but the fibres are thin,
and I measure more than I'd like to have seen
in the distance in between
your words, laundry-pinned to dry in my sun,
hanging from the moment ago they were spun
in drenching new-birth, concatenating with mine
to form the meaning I'd been meaning to sign
in the distance in between
us, and what has happened, what could never be,
there was nothing woven where nothing's to see
and I crane my neck, reading in front of me
the results of what I asked for, honesty
in the distance in between
the self that I aligned myself with, and you
expelling the code that puzzles me through
the silences when we meet, our rendez-vous
from a language I speak to get to what's true
in the distance in between
the vocal chambers that reside in bodies
picking up signals from closer melodies
that sound out help from minds not at ease
like mine, a poet ambling in memories
in the distance in between
where I've done too much searching for your smile,
ghosts have passed a lonelier road in denial
of their release, who I'd joined up with, all the while
talking, yelling, mouthing verbs and nouns, guile
in the distance in between
that I'm trying to overlook even here,
sounding out various prayers to an ear
I imagine is yours, wherever you hear
the fibres telling you that I am near
in the distance in between
where really there's a bridge you laid the instant
when the strings I tugged began their descent
into my sun-deprived consciousness, sent
from the warmth I recalled as an infant
in the distance in between.
Words,
and in the spaces in between,
mines:
to be careful where you step is to
step where lines are dreamt
but soon forgotten.
Words,
and the eyes that read them,
signs:
to understand means to stand
under the post and point in
the right direction.
Words,
and where the letters meet,
bridges:
to speak is to move across
incorporeally into another's
set of teeth.
Words,
and behind the physicality,
thought:
to be or not to be and electricity
surges through neurons and
passes by me.
Words,
and what it all really means,
nothing:
to be left imbued by what is true
is to never have left love and it be
forever with you.
Tools are on the floor, strewn. Pick up those sticks, those houses in the making, and build a bridge to a boy's heart. He needs the shelter, too. He needs to find peace within himself without a wolf blowing out another birthday out of his internal calendar.
It's a world out there. No,
It looks like there's a world out there and yet,
and yet,
He feels it here.
And he's wondering why?
There might be laughter. There will be, by the end.
Faith, that little miracle,
Carried off the shelf
I don't know where I'm holding it
But, ye hover, permeate.
I am dead.
Ye know, ye recognise,
Rejoice that it's today,
That I died yesterday.
Faith, hold on to these reins
As I sit back in the chariot.
I promise,
I'll go where you take me.
Love gets you nothing.
If I were to leave that be, you might feel as if you had been struck by a pessimistic and/or depressed bolt of emotion. But, there is a continuation.
Love gets you nothing, it gives you everything.
We talk about love as if it's the most cliché cliché and yet the most sought after thing in the world. It's everywhere, yet we look for it in places we can't find it. This does not make sense. And it is upon this realisation that I have stumbled upon with the help and guidance of "A Course In Miracles."
To paraphrase "Entre les Murs", "Je ne sais pas pourquoi nous faisons ce que nous faisons." I could say it in many ways but possibilities are endless, and certainty, quite frankly, is certain. I am going to talk now from what I have learned.
We build bridges to the world. We climb mountains, proverbial and otherwise. We overcome adversity. We compromise. We seek out a life purpose. We search for other people. We search within people for similarity. We push other people away by shutting our eyes at their similarity. We form groups. We exclude, but we want to be included. We have arrived at a point where we exclude to include, which doesn't make sense. We go to war. We blame somebody else for an illusory reality that lies in our own heads. We shove guilt down someone else's throat because we don't want our own illusory crap because it's illusory crap. We use colloquialisms to fit into society. We conform to convention to be included. We exclude those who do not fit into the social conventions. We envy those who do not fit into the social conventions. We fight those people. We fight each other. We laugh at each other. We feel wronged by the world. We seek to be accepted. We seek to be at peace. We attack other people. We want our peace to come to us. We push our peace away. We look at each other and choose to ignore what we see in the mirror. We bombard the surface of the world, of other people. We dig into the core of weakness. We fashion masks to protect our egos. We fail at succeeding to find what we really want. We succeed at failing to see the truth. We see each other and ourselves as torn and confused and shattered and tired and bruised and wounded and pathetic and apathetic and hopeless and surpassed and distraught and shocked and mournful and lost and forgetful and ignorant and insensitive and obnoxious and stubborn and unmoving and unbending and gluttonous and defiant and disrespectful and scared. We don't know what we are doing and why we are doing what we are doing. But we know one thing. We want to be whole. We want to rise up and rejoice and be present and joyful and meaningful and at peace and to embrace synonymy.
We think we are alone, but we are not. We think we are hurt, but we are not. We think we are cursed, but we are not. We think we are worthless, but we are not. We think we are nuisances, but we are not. We think we are better, but we are not. We think we are worse, but we are not. We think we are unloved, but we are not. Amidst this confusion, lies the truth. We all want the same thing and feel the same-sized love-shaped gap within ourselves.
The gap is not there, and we realise it is not there by testing it. Not by feeling sorry or guilty or ashamed or depressed at our seeming incompleteness. We know love, by doing things that require love. By being who we are and letting others be who they are. Those bridges are made of love. We are lost, which means we have simply forgotten, so we must remember. We do this by giving. Love is for giving. Love is forgiving. Love is everywhere, but we look for it as if it weren't there. But it is. Open your eyes. I am standing in the same boat as you. We are sailing on the same sea. And I am glad we are on this journey together.
Be happy.
Live the life that you want,
Don't you ever, ever
Let anyone tell you you can't.
Be happy.
Be brave.
Open your eyes and see ahead,
There are a few that are left.
Stand strong.
Don't look back
Hear them saying things to you,
Watch their lips move
For they are talking to you.
They see you.
Be happy.
Be wise.
Carry on.
Be happy.
Laugh a little
There's nobody here to cry
With you, no tears to be shed.
It boils down to the point
Of what was done and what was said...
Believe
Believe there's a chance for you
There's a place where you can go
There's a light shining the truth.
And believe in yourself.
There's no answers to be seen
But known.
But found out
By those who seek.
Be happy.
No path can ever disappear
No world can chain you up in darkness
But the one you hold most dear,
And you know that I care
You know that I'm behind you
It's just a little hard to bear
When I see that you're gone
Among the flames I see you're done.
You're done.
You're gone.
Be happy.
Raise your flag towards the sky
May the clouds part ways for you
To clear the storm that is inside.
Stand strong.
I know you will
There's no other possibility
It's a matter of life
What's the matter with you?
It's not about you.
It's not about you.
It's not about you.
In the greater of scheme of things
It's one little brick out of a building
But you're holding on too strong.
The wind is pulling at your heels
There's no mountain to be climbed
In the broken heart of the unreal.
In your eyes there is a promise.
Light the fire of your state
Burn the videos, the emptiness,
The ones that guard your fate.
Please, please,
Hold on.
Be strong.
Be happy.
No other life will come through,
Your success is not a battle
When it's already part of you.
Be happy.
Laugh a little at yourself
It's just one step closer
And you're off the edge.
Be happy.
Take the leap.
Be happy.
Make the journey.
Be happy.
Cross the bridges that you've burned
For fire cannot touch what can't be hurt.
Whisper tenderly in my ear
Your plan on how to cross the bridge
Tell me without a trace of fear
Why the world's painted in this tinge
Of lost, of man, of dashing hope
Too few, when hurt, hold on to heart
Their only hand, onto the rope
From whence they came, back to the start.
This said with tears streaming down cheeks
The prayer to escape your shade
Will save you from the pain which seeks
The end of what will one day fade
Anyway.
I'm going on the path of feelings once more, in the hall of exploration. It's like I've got a bridge almost pouring within out towards the screen, my canvas. So this feeling that I want to express shall cross this bridge and be communicated. That's right, grow legs and walk. Or slither.
I've met many people in my life, and I shall yet meet more. There's people that stand out though, for some reason. One of them arouses a very strange feeling within me. I'm not sure if I can get it to cross the bridge but here I am trying to lure it. I want it revealed. I wonder if this sentiment is a response to who they are, who I am, or the image that I have of them, because there is a difference between the first two and the last. Who we are is the same. But I would like to know if how I feel is due to the recognition of myself, maybe a hidden untouched part of me, within the other person, or if it an attraction of a different kind? How is this related to me? I've been trying to guess, and so I make the call now to receive an answer. I won't know the reason for the feeling until I'm ready to, and that's fine, but what the feeling actually is... I'd like to know that. Just because I don't know what to do with it. Some would say... just feel it. It is a feeling, after all. I feel feelings. But people act on feelings. I don't want to do that, I want to act on what I know, which is sure - and thus the decisions made are based on a solid unbreakable foundation. Feelings to me are more of a puzzle piece, ready to be placed in the right spot under the glass pane on the coffee table. They are like directions on a map, they tell me where I could go, but my going should be based on my knowledge of what I'm going there for.
Have I tempted you to cross the bridge? I sound like a devil... why do I need to tempt things? I don't, that's an illusion. So the bridge is set in place. It might come straight onto the canvas, but it first has to pass through my mind, which I am un-tunneling. I might not see the answer. The bridge is to a feeling, so I will feel it and I'll know the direction it's going. It is within.
