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I am an unfinished story. Silent, numb, unsettled, too many ideas confusing me. Now sensing that there’s a story in not telling a story. I have stopped trying. The only rhythm quiet whispered breathing. Unspoken truth, unwritten words, holding space for whatever may unfold. It’s uncomfortable, disquieting, humbling. Not a feeling of failure, rather a sense of relief, an honest moment. Stories waiting to be told whose time has yet to come. Not forcing myself to do something, but rather…..
I feel the pull of time. The overflow and the undertow. Urgent, patient, unpredictable, dependable, disarming, alarming, relentless, endless, shifting, drifting, chaotic, exotic. A playground for potential.
I become lost amid the stardust. Memories of maddening possibilities, missed opportunities, a stone unturned, a lesson unlearned. Wistful, wishful, imploring, exploring, quirks of fate, it’s not too late.
I find myself at the cusp of time. Vanishing horizon, vanquishing illusion, insistent inner voice, a fateful choice, leaving a lover, returning to love…..
I write in meditation. Sometimes beginning with an intention, other times looking for guidance. Words appearing and disappearing, detaching, trusting, allowing the process to unfold.
I move to my desk. I travel through the dictionary on a word search, words leading to other words, unclear about where the story is going. Doing the work. Getting lost. Frustration. Tension.
Point of inflection, candid reflection, inspiration, exhilaration, insistent message, persistent passage, culling through words that I chose, cutting beautiful prose, artistic prowess,…..
I hang my head in deference
racial division, sexual derision, religious persecution, fairness an illusion, shadows in the night, hiding in plain sight, inconspicuous, obvious.
I turn my head from pretense
fashionable cachet, elite cadre, superior attitudes, spouting platitudes, material health, worshipping wealth, conspicuous, oblivious.
I shake my head with impatience
conscientious objection, defying convention, litmus test, non-violent protest, whistle blower, hemp grower.
I look ahead for guidance
…..
Open and vulnerable, faith impregnable, audible hum, inner sanctum, rarefied air, everywhere
hushed worship, kindred friendship, reverence, deference, soulful exploration, our alien nation.
Stealth bomber, resolute killer, waves of darkness, consuming madness, indignation, alienation
bullets raining, muscles straining, voices screaming, live streaming, diving for cover, saying goodbye to a lover.
Wrought, distraught, resolve toughening, hearts hardening, an I for an I, wondering why
remembrance, vengeance, unending, unrelenting, void of emotion, returning to devotion
prayers beseeching, thoughts far-reaching, surprising light, disarming…..
I have a number, my tax identity. The government has a tax code, unquestionable authority. Withholding taxes from every paycheck, demanding estimated payments. What do they know, how much do they think I owe?
So every year I gather my documents and mail a package to my accountant for a full accounting. Back and forth for missing information, clarification, confirmation. And then to me for approval. How am I to know?
Forms and schedules and statements interconnected, fear of miscalculation,…..
I feel the rhythmic silence, the time in between, the space between the stars.
I sense the stillness, a vestige beyond meaning, a wisp of remembrance.
I open my mind, release my thoughts, listen with my heart, release expectation.
I am unhurried, aware and unaware, composed and composing.
I smile as tension melts from my face, jaw slackening, doing nothing. Grounded.
I trust the universe, listening for the…..
What was that? I know it was there. My mind draws a blank. Nothing where there used to be something, or maybe it’s moved, just out of reach, losing my place, memory erased.
A jumble I hear myself mumble, my hands fumble, my heart stumbles, hope tumbles, cacophony, entropy, misfiring circuitry, confusion, disillusion, static, panic, a silent scream.
I need to concentrate.
Finding my breath, time slowing, clearing space, tumblers falling into place, a call to order, synapses firing, pathways…..
Every morning I get an email with an amazing, shape defying nebula. Clouds of cosmic dust surround stars, scattering and spraying luminous colors. An interstellar light show.
There are also dark nebulae, extremely cold and dense, filled with exotic chemistry. Opaque, known only by the heat of hidden stars. Holes in the sky.
Within these dark nebulae, magnetic forces play with gravity. Eventually gravity takes hold, density overwhelms, burning heat intensifies. Gas collapses in free fall, chaos reigns, grains of…..
My eyes hurt. There’s an irritation around the edges. They’re sensitive to the touch. The lids are falling. And the center has a heaviness. At times my vision blurs. I can’t see clearly. Weary.
I’ve seen too much. I can’t think straight. I’ve heard too much. I can’t listen anymore. I’ve said too little. I can’t find the words. Confusion reigns. All in vain.
And then I relent for there’s no other choice. Letting life take its course as it…..
