Is this the place for unpublished work? I write often, even after a decision to no pursue it as a career. I would love some brutal, honest feedback. My challenge, at this moment, is eliminating prepositions, staying in active voice, and developing imagery. Any thoughts on these very short pieces?
Morning breaks, and in the interim of night and day, the moon is visible in short waves of indigo hues. Through my window, a crisp morning promises spring's growth and renewal. It is analogous, one of greatest God's gifts, to the renewal of spirit. Homo sapiens search for meaning, symbolism, especially this animal, as an individual. This is yet another extraordinary gift, to enliven the mind and express its vast array of nuances, through the presents of written symbols, painting pigments, exposure of light, reverberations of sound and pitch. White is death. Green is envy. Red is anger. Blue is melancholy. All of these concepts, "blue" and "melancholy," are generalized descriptions, shared by all who know the language, those symbols. You can know my sadness through genetics, interpretations of facial muscles and movements. But, without symbols, how can you answer those questions. Being inquisitive, and imaging changes, seeing past our own death, to toss batons to the next generation, in our lineage, we form societies.
So, when I tell you that night is over, and the light is returning, you know my hope. When I tell you that we can influence a mind, you know we share, even generationally, so you can see the influence of communication. For trial and expression of interpretations, through communication, are tested hypothesises. We do not wish to be alone, we crave to know ourselves, each other.
These undercurrents in our lives, and our choices, both negative and positive, are the expressions of spirit, show how malleable we are, the human condition, and how influential we can be on each other.
So, when the moon calls to this beast, and the sun brings happiness, do not think me superficial, lacking nuance. See the animal that became a biped from primordial soup. Who, as far as the nucleic acids are concerned, has slept more in caves, than in a house or apartment. Think of it as coming home.
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Those moments between thoughts are where life becomes peace. When every moment is stimulation, I overwhelm at all that I miss, the senses overload, and nervous, irrational energy permeates every thought and action.
To quiet the mind is a necessary talent, a honed skill, a destination with no end. Often, actions are less quantities of multitasking, and more quality of mastery.
I share those silent moments with others, and they become those energies I hope to avoid. When I am comfortable in your presence, the more silent I will become. It is not to ignore, it is that precious gift I wish to share. It is the stillness of unmoving waters, a chance to connect through no need for noise.
Chatter can be an annoyance. Noise is not comforting. When the world sleeps, my internals rave. As the world bustles, I am drawn to the exterior. I react more than reflect.
Sit awhile. Silence is my hopping party. Join me for a drink, the performance will begin when your reach what is within. There you find useful communication with the person who understands you best--you. And when when that drink is empty, the performer gone, let us fill the air with what we learned.
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It is comfortable. Too comfortable. Volumes of histories, lines read in each action between us. I wrap my fingers within yours, your body firmly pressed to mine, and it is all those moments between the anxious excitement of the first and this reminiscent, tender present.
Full-bodied, the grapes did age well. I know it, however, so do you. Let the Visigoths rule, let the last volume be written. There is no celebration. There are no tears. There is no stopping the destines. Silence could break the night. Goodbye.
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Tame are the frontiers. The animals of prey are not prevalent. While the Endocrine systems have prepared homo sapiens for bears and cougars, death is most often caused by sedimentary lifestyles (heart disease, diabetes, cancer). These phenomena are a second in the hour of human time.
But the same natural state that could kill humans, often is overlooked as a source of relaxation. While we have created an ecosystem that uses the natural one as a resource (without production from waste, which puts us in jeopardy), and we want order, sterilization of the artificial environment, it is a predator onto itself. Stress increases, the same hormones meant to save the individual, now shreds our cardiovascular system since it takes physical exertion to release its power from our arterial walls and pumping muscles.
So, when considering fields from the silt and mineral deposits of the plains, the cresting waves and movements that relax us to rest, the mountain peaks of shifting plates and collisions, the control and taming of our environment cannot continue as it presently exists. We need the natural world, and we need to end our view that Industrialization and modernity is superior to the millions of years of evolution that gives us a tremendous model to invoke.
We need technology that feeds another and works within the natural world. We need to clear ways for parks in urban planning and sensitivity, empathy, and knowledge to convince all that our natural world has a place in the lives of all.
We need nature. It is the extremism and hubris of our species to think because we have imagination, infrastructure, tools, and intelligence, we are superior to all that has come before us.
Relax in the country. Fight for climate change. Embrace green technology. Build a great society by cleaning up the rape of mother nature. We are all connected--animal, plant, mineral, humans--and hope it is not too late.
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Life is a complex interweaving of decisions. It truly is a game of inches. One moment late, and destinies shuffle a new outcome. Time is finite, a ruler over our lives, but it also maintains the pressure to move, and plan, with circumstances and settings in perpetual motion. There is more in one moment of time than is possible to see. If we stopped time, for a moment, we could not travel to all the destinations in one 100-year lifetime, in that moment of time. Each moment is a decision, shaped by personality, interpersonal relations, experience, attention span, wisdom, and physical ability, including intelligence. The fact statues stay constant, the ground is solid, and buildings are erect, give us a sense of consistency, familiarity. But, all this chaos and movement is filtered, and processed, by this device--a brain--that connects all our senses together, and perceives time, to create reality. Similar minds see the same spectrum of light, respond to similar stimuli, but what is reality? Is time simply a way of our brain perceiving the universe? This is where we live, by the way. In our brains. It is a universe on to itself, so when my mind is off, for a moment, comfort is all I ask. To balm the thoughts and energy with something so innate to the animal--bonding with another. We are seconds, inches, and perceptions away from finding that person. This is why I say "I'm surprised it is as common as it is." Because bonds form in this chaos, by commonalities. Because life is asking much more of us. And, when it happens, it is beauty. Do not ruin someone else's canvas because you have no idea how hard it is to find that one person. Opportunities, in everything, become more important. And time is a factor. So, be kind to anyone who expresses feelings for you. Be kind to yourself. And when it happens, value it, celebrate it. Do not hurt them. Do not control them, in chaos. Just live and be kind. Here endeth the lecture, and the lesson.
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When you rest this evening, I make the pieces of me you have stolen, available. The only condition is that your pieces appear within mine. May we dance amid flowing gowns and vaulted ballroom ceilings. Let us crackle the ground beneath our soles as the stars watch kindly. May we play in water fountains meant only for the phylum. May we fall from the sky and float on a cloud. May we drink wild nights with laughter in our teeth and burning our bellies. May you grin in your sleep and toss clocks in the morning. I know I will.
May these dreams be guideposts and spark our ideas. May it grow our bond and savor our time. You let the pieces of me permeate and I will do the same. When restless and raging nights come, as they always do, can we remember these dreams? Can they keep us sane and at each other's side? You dancing. Me splashing. Your cloud and my star.
It is time to dial the time to tomorrow. To rest. And think of all we could be, together.
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As you rest peacefully in my arms, they are cascading beneath their covers. The luster, from mine, fires beneath slumber. I have seen them flush and coarse as night fell. I have drained sombreness, unable to relieve the pain, standing firm and strong, because you need it. I have watched the flesh around them soften with my touch and harden against careless words. I know they are timeless, as consistent as the pines of snow drifts and baking heat. They will be my roots when age steals everything but those clouded windows where I peak the two souls we share. Night will fall once more and we will escape beyond the stars. Perhaps I will not need them anymore. Perhaps that will be the first full embrace. But, until that day, they rest. Here, against my arm.
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Crimson petals fall silently against a crisp, winter sky. A dark night overflows, at the brim, with raging lights. Diamonds, they have been called. A rock dull and coarse, tempered, to shine, by chaos, and gravity, pressure and energy. They align, and dot the darkened skies, across time and space. They give life a chance, a gift of existence. They shine, for all to see, but their presence is not hunted; they are constant; powerful; they are known, but not challenged, weakened, by frailties. They are too distant to challenge.
Flower petals--fragrant and soft, precious and beautiful. It is easy to lose. Their gifts are subtle, given by the stars, and a mere hand can rip their flesh to pieces. The intricate and nuanced nutrient structures make me wonder how they survive. They have inspired love and romance. They have been nutrients, like the stars, for others. Valued, and brief, their lives are protected, more than protectors.
The best of us, in crimson petals and night skies.
Wow! I hope you’re a benevolent god! Do you have other stuff you’ve released or published? Would love to read it if you’re inclined!
