After six months without contact I no longer found purpose in checking the sat com’s. Huston’s last transmission echoed in my head “where going dark for a while, hold tight.” A while had come and passed… multiple times. I never found sense in holding on to delusional thoughts just to spare myself some sanity. Huston wasn’t going to pull us out of orbit. We were stuck aboard space station Nova 17 indefinitely. It was a ridiculous notion to believe that there was still hope. One Sam held on to very tightly. He was a polar opposite to me in many ways, he was a god fearing man. Just his belief in some sort of divine power was enough to highlight all our differences.
“Shit shit shit shit. It has been six months! I can’t even get a blip to come up on the Coms.” Sam slammed his fists against the hull of the station. His frustrations had been mounting, and I had yet to reveal to him that I thought Huston no longer existed. I knew it would just start a fight, but I didn’t care anymore.
“Sam Huston is gone. We are alone up here man. No one is going to save us.” I spoke soft and slow. Trying not to add any more sting to the words than already existed in there meaning.
“I can’t believe that Raylen. What’s life without hope?” Sam tried hard to have faith in his words, but I could tell his morality was eroding.
“It’s just life.” Sam pondered the severity of my reply, I am sure that such thoughts would take him to a very dark place. Yet I didn’t want to take my words back ignorance may be bliss, but if I couldn’t enjoy bliss, why should anyone? I made my way over to the exposed viewing window and watch the earth crawl through the black void. It was so odd to me, from where I was the earth looked massive and slow, lumbering on its course around the sun. but in reality it was a small rock tearing through a massive cosmic arena. My view was subjective in and objective universe. And I longed to be objective as well.
“Raylen, what do you think is the most important aspect of life?” such a heavy question crashed into my ears, causing a rather devastating ripple of thoughts, but I clung to one.
“None of it is important in the grand scheme. A life is a collection of random occurrences that hold no more value than one places on them. And the value one does place on them is an idealistic delusion.” Again I could see my words seeping into Sam’s mind. I wasn’t sure of how much I was altering inside that head of his. He had become so weak and desperate. The days had laid waste to his mind set. His faith was crumbling, his hope slipping and his positivity fading. Something that happened to most on earth as they lived their life, but for Sam it took the vast solitude of space to shake his outlook to the core.
“If none of this is important what exactly is the point?” Sam’s question was laced more with challenge that inquisitive nature.
“The point is simple, there isn’t one. You can try to place meaning on different aspects of your life, but you’ll just be lying to yourself and once you realize that, it’s almost impossible to believe yourself.”
“Dam ray, you have a bleak outlook on things. You should work on that.” Sam laughed to himself , and made his way off to the other side of the station. But I wasn’t going to work on my outlook, I was simply going to wait for my words to soak in. I was going to let them trigger Sam’s rationality. Forcing him to think about his life logically rather than spiritually, and in time I knew he would see things the way that I did. Sam and I found our separate ways to the sleeping capsules, closing the doors on wakefulness as we faded from reality into a delusional slumber.
8 months had passed since last radio contact with NASA. We had stretched our life reserves as far as we could, and our supplies where waning toward exhaustion. Sam had a mental breakdown; he hadn’t spoken to me in weeks. He only whispered nonsense to himself and I feared what his emotional weak state was doing to the both of us. I had had enough of the silent treatment; I had to snap him out of this… for the both of us.
“Sam, Sam. I know you don’t want to talk to me but we have to figure out what we are going to do.”
“What do you mean what are we going to do? There is no fucking point, can’t you see that? These fucking delusions serve us no purpose. We are as fucked up here as we would have been down there.” It was evident Sam had lost what little sanity had remained in the months after losing contact. He spoke with viciousness in his voice that almost made him sound evil. I couldn’t help but wonder who much of his current state was my fault.
“You’re nothing more than a voice In my head Raylen… leave me to the silence!” There was nothing I could do. Over the next few days Sam feverishly scratched up drawings and diagrams that made no sense. He would stay up late into the nights, rerouting wires all throughout the stations. Weaving them into a tangled mess of which the logic only his crazed mind could understand. Sam had lost everything. He was a subhuman shell.
The lack of Sam’s sanity caused me to question my own. I contemplated killing him, putting him out of his misery and using his flesh to prolong my own life. Dark thoughts like that seemed almost bland in our dire situation.
“Sam! SAM! Don’t eat all of that! It’s our last ration. Sam please you need to save some of that for later!” my pleas fell on ignorant ears as Sam devoured the last ration in an animalistic manor.
“We have no use of it for later. Later doesn’t exist for us. It’s no longer tangible.” Sam began trashing his head back and forth as he laughed. The solitude of space had crippled him. His mind was warped and rotted.
“Sam what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“YOU! You are what’s wrong fucking wrong. Life is void of reason! God is but a creation of man! Purpose is a lie! You spit your venomous words and I listened. Your rationality has killed us both. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, you need answers, you couldn’t let faith be faith and god be god you had to rationalize everything away till our emotions had no vessel, and now they run rampant through my head screaming in PAIN! PAIN! You fucking did this Raylen, now watch me as I undo you!” Sam’s tirade exploded as he violently lunged forward. He pulled his weightless body through the station. I had no idea where Sam thought he was going.
“Depressurizing Cabin, Stand back for exit.” The computerized voice told me it was too late for me to undo Sam’s actions. He exited the station, floating out into open space without his suit. I pulled myself into view of the closest window. Sam was gasping for air, his skin turned a blood red and began to blister and pop as it boiled in the sun’s rays. It was horrifying to watch Sam’s existence fade in exposed space. But as his life faded before me, so did I. and with Sam’s death I too ceased to exist. Space station Nova17 was in orbit with a crew of one. Sam had been the only leaving being aboard Nova17. And now there was no one.
(explanation: I don’t like having to explain the stories for values sake. Often times writing is subjective even if written with an objective purpose. But long story short Nova17 is about the rationalization and the forced tangibility of science based thinking. Where only what is tangible is real and the rest is delusion. This kind of thinking strips beauty and purpose from our lives driving us insane. Raylen was the rational science based side of Sam’s personality. And while floating through space Sam’s desperate need for human interaction caused him to create Raylen. Eventually Raylen wins out in the battle of rationality and spirituality driving Sam to suicide.)
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Coffee and a Parking Garage
Her soft smile broke my nerves, claiming my heart hostage for the moment. A moment that lasted much longer than I ever would have assumed. I wondered how real this could be? An awkward exchange of words over coffee that had melted into a lively discussion, a finely tuned exchange of self-revealing evidence. I was piecing her together with each new shred of information she shared.
A subtle pause in the conversation gave way to laughter, even my strange sense of humor found validity in her eyes. Her eyes where so striking, electric yellow carved around her pupils, brimmed by a soft culmination of shades of green. Her eyes exploded with passion like nothing I had ever seen before. I carefully noted the small features of her face and frame that made her so pleasant to look at, so welcoming to even the most hostile of strangers. And I wondered if she saw the same? If she to could see my positive features, and if they fascinated her in the same way hers fascinated me.
Small amounts of earth toned Coffee warmed their way to my stomach. Sending jolts of caffeine coursing through my veins, lacing my words with extra excitement and hurry.
“Because the parking garage is cool! I love being up there, and just looking out over everything.”
“Then let’s go!” her words where more than enough to bring us to our feet and out into the cool night air. As she drove the soft beat of familiar music held the background to our conversation. Her similarities in musical flare excited me. It was rare for me to find someone with similarly diverse taste in music as myself.
“This is my favorite song.” She turned the knob to the right as the guitar began to play. We sat in silence as I soaked in every element of the song. A soft simple acoustic guitar range out a catchy sad melody. The vocals came in after several chords, a deep soothing voice sang each word expressing such a deep pain with every verse. All the while I compared the song with what it said about her, that she had choose this song as her favorite. Pain of a past love was evident in my mind, but deeper than that it expressed simplicity and a vast emotionality in her personality, both of which later rang true. I wondered if she realized how hard my mind was working to understand every ounce of her. I hid it as well as I could. The song faded into its final chords, ending soft and full of emotion.
“I refuse to attach anyone to this song. I don’t want the memories of someone else to ruin such a beautiful song.” She spoke with her hands, despite the fact that she was driving. And I wondered how true those words really were. If she could truly abstain from attaching memories to a song.
“I think that’s part of what gives music its power, the emotionally charged memories our mind attaches to each verse.” And secretly, from that exact moment I wanted to be her memory for that song, but instead she became mine for that very song.
The night sky was suspended above our heads; stars glittered across the black void. The horizon crashed into a city scape dotted with lights almost mirroring the sky above. The edge of the parking structure gave way to thin air, and our feet danced above the street so far below. It was the perfect setting for our vibrant exchange of stories and thoughts. Each word that left her lips crashed into my ears with resounding force. Never had I paid such close attention to the subtlety of every word.
“Love lane? I would feel pretentious living on a street like that. Like I would in some way have to live up to the street name.” my jaded thoughts on love where already seeping into my words. I was sharing intimate thoughts at an accelerated rate.
“I don’t know, I just have a problem with the word love. It is too vague and people make assumptions.” I had successfully transition a conversation about a street name into a discussion about love, I was always one for awkward segues.
“I am always careful to express what my love means to others. I don’t just leave it at I love you.” I looked out over the city as she spoke, soaking in the scene as well as her words.
“I guess I am still trying to figure love out, and decide if it is even real or tangible.”
And then she said something I had never thought of before… “Love is different at different points in your life, you could have been in love at 14 and it was REAL love at the time, but as you grow as a person so does your love. You reach a higher level and learn to love more fully as you grow.”
Each word that night carefully crafted a unique and diverse friendship that night. Almost as if all the moments in our lives had steered us to that locations, at that point in time so that we could meet each other. Like our lives where meant to intersect for one reason or another. Everything was just to perfect that, or maybe the perfection lives only in my memories and it was nothing more than random occurrences and events. Regardless everyone you meet impacts your life, but every so often you meet someone who impacts it so profoundly you can’t help but think of the night you first spent with them. My night was spent with coffee and a parking garage, and my life will never be the same.
A subtle pause in the conversation gave way to laughter, even my strange sense of humor found validity in her eyes. Her eyes where so striking, electric yellow carved around her pupils, brimmed by a soft culmination of shades of green. Her eyes exploded with passion like nothing I had ever seen before. I carefully noted the small features of her face and frame that made her so pleasant to look at, so welcoming to even the most hostile of strangers. And I wondered if she saw the same? If she to could see my positive features, and if they fascinated her in the same way hers fascinated me.
Small amounts of earth toned Coffee warmed their way to my stomach. Sending jolts of caffeine coursing through my veins, lacing my words with extra excitement and hurry.
“Because the parking garage is cool! I love being up there, and just looking out over everything.”
“Then let’s go!” her words where more than enough to bring us to our feet and out into the cool night air. As she drove the soft beat of familiar music held the background to our conversation. Her similarities in musical flare excited me. It was rare for me to find someone with similarly diverse taste in music as myself.
“This is my favorite song.” She turned the knob to the right as the guitar began to play. We sat in silence as I soaked in every element of the song. A soft simple acoustic guitar range out a catchy sad melody. The vocals came in after several chords, a deep soothing voice sang each word expressing such a deep pain with every verse. All the while I compared the song with what it said about her, that she had choose this song as her favorite. Pain of a past love was evident in my mind, but deeper than that it expressed simplicity and a vast emotionality in her personality, both of which later rang true. I wondered if she realized how hard my mind was working to understand every ounce of her. I hid it as well as I could. The song faded into its final chords, ending soft and full of emotion.
“I refuse to attach anyone to this song. I don’t want the memories of someone else to ruin such a beautiful song.” She spoke with her hands, despite the fact that she was driving. And I wondered how true those words really were. If she could truly abstain from attaching memories to a song.
“I think that’s part of what gives music its power, the emotionally charged memories our mind attaches to each verse.” And secretly, from that exact moment I wanted to be her memory for that song, but instead she became mine for that very song.
The night sky was suspended above our heads; stars glittered across the black void. The horizon crashed into a city scape dotted with lights almost mirroring the sky above. The edge of the parking structure gave way to thin air, and our feet danced above the street so far below. It was the perfect setting for our vibrant exchange of stories and thoughts. Each word that left her lips crashed into my ears with resounding force. Never had I paid such close attention to the subtlety of every word.
“Love lane? I would feel pretentious living on a street like that. Like I would in some way have to live up to the street name.” my jaded thoughts on love where already seeping into my words. I was sharing intimate thoughts at an accelerated rate.
“I don’t know, I just have a problem with the word love. It is too vague and people make assumptions.” I had successfully transition a conversation about a street name into a discussion about love, I was always one for awkward segues.
“I am always careful to express what my love means to others. I don’t just leave it at I love you.” I looked out over the city as she spoke, soaking in the scene as well as her words.
“I guess I am still trying to figure love out, and decide if it is even real or tangible.”
And then she said something I had never thought of before… “Love is different at different points in your life, you could have been in love at 14 and it was REAL love at the time, but as you grow as a person so does your love. You reach a higher level and learn to love more fully as you grow.”
Each word that night carefully crafted a unique and diverse friendship that night. Almost as if all the moments in our lives had steered us to that locations, at that point in time so that we could meet each other. Like our lives where meant to intersect for one reason or another. Everything was just to perfect that, or maybe the perfection lives only in my memories and it was nothing more than random occurrences and events. Regardless everyone you meet impacts your life, but every so often you meet someone who impacts it so profoundly you can’t help but think of the night you first spent with them. My night was spent with coffee and a parking garage, and my life will never be the same.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Distant Starlight
Stars give off all the light a couple of kindred hearts need to see. She looked so beautiful with a few stars glowing on her face. Her pale delicate skin dusted with a light coat of makeup she didn’t even need. Her green eyes sparkled with life. They were always so full of excitement, for nothing in particular. Her twisting brown hair playfully coiled down to her shoulders. She was a portrait I could stare out for hours, etched in my memories for eternity.
“I wish you could see life the way I did.” Her soft lips released the words to break the silence we had been sharing.
“Part of me has that same wish, but I am far to jaded to see outside my own eyes.” My words spilt out and I was careful to dam up the swell of emotion that followed. Every night I lived and died in her eyes, and tonight was no different.
“There is an amazing person drowning in your self-doubt.” With her words her eyes trailed out the window, like she was collecting her words from the stars.
“That self-doubt is partly responsible for creating that person. We are all tragically flawed.” My words where hard to find in the moon light, but she did her best to understand. Our nightly conversations were all that made me feel alive on such a stormy few years. The clouds where closing in over my head, but for the few real moments we shared alone, none of that mattered.
“One day you will find him, that great person inside you, and I can’t even begin to imagine what you will be like then.” She was always trying to save me from myself, and it was hard to tell if she was winning the battle or not.
“Hopefully someone who makes a difference.” My gaze broke the electric galaxies in her eyes and found the stars in the sky.
“6 billion of us shape this small blue marble careening through space. It is such a small segment of the entire picture. Like a speck of insignificant dust. And I want nothing more than to impact it. To be remembered. Immortalized by the turning of the page and the actions of my life.” Sometimes I felt my words where lost on her, but in reality she understood she just didn’t have the words for a response. I felt the sensation of her skin meeting mine; I could hold her hand forever. But it meant far more to me, than it ever would to her. Certainly not for lack of trying though.
“One day I hope to sweep you off your feet, steal your heart, and be your prince in shining armor.”
“I hope you do too.” Her voice trailed off undoubtedly signifying the improbability of that happening. Everything that stood in my way she knew far better than I did. Life was like a mine field of complications, and my heart was taking a beating. It would be a miracle if I pulled through, and she was a miracle to me. She turned the car engine to life and it groaned. I knew this was the start of the goodbye. And when she left, parts of me left with her. Wondering if I would ever get to wear that suit of armor. And the truth was I never would.
“I wish you could see life the way I did.” Her soft lips released the words to break the silence we had been sharing.
“Part of me has that same wish, but I am far to jaded to see outside my own eyes.” My words spilt out and I was careful to dam up the swell of emotion that followed. Every night I lived and died in her eyes, and tonight was no different.
“There is an amazing person drowning in your self-doubt.” With her words her eyes trailed out the window, like she was collecting her words from the stars.
“That self-doubt is partly responsible for creating that person. We are all tragically flawed.” My words where hard to find in the moon light, but she did her best to understand. Our nightly conversations were all that made me feel alive on such a stormy few years. The clouds where closing in over my head, but for the few real moments we shared alone, none of that mattered.
“One day you will find him, that great person inside you, and I can’t even begin to imagine what you will be like then.” She was always trying to save me from myself, and it was hard to tell if she was winning the battle or not.
“Hopefully someone who makes a difference.” My gaze broke the electric galaxies in her eyes and found the stars in the sky.
“6 billion of us shape this small blue marble careening through space. It is such a small segment of the entire picture. Like a speck of insignificant dust. And I want nothing more than to impact it. To be remembered. Immortalized by the turning of the page and the actions of my life.” Sometimes I felt my words where lost on her, but in reality she understood she just didn’t have the words for a response. I felt the sensation of her skin meeting mine; I could hold her hand forever. But it meant far more to me, than it ever would to her. Certainly not for lack of trying though.
“One day I hope to sweep you off your feet, steal your heart, and be your prince in shining armor.”
“I hope you do too.” Her voice trailed off undoubtedly signifying the improbability of that happening. Everything that stood in my way she knew far better than I did. Life was like a mine field of complications, and my heart was taking a beating. It would be a miracle if I pulled through, and she was a miracle to me. She turned the car engine to life and it groaned. I knew this was the start of the goodbye. And when she left, parts of me left with her. Wondering if I would ever get to wear that suit of armor. And the truth was I never would.
Cemetery Breeze
The Dead overgrowth of plant like matter clung to a frail rusted fence. The fence bordered a small hilltop cemetery, dividing wild unkept forest with man-made structures. The headstones plummet upward from the soil, reaching for the dull summer sky. Their hollow inscriptions begged for remembrance of those who passed by, but only one man ever paid his respects. This man’s face was creased and stretched with age, the color form his hair was drained and the years of gravity had pushed him downward onto his cane. But the old man’s most stunning feature where his eyes. Such a piercing and pure blue, so vivid and illuminate yet heavy and troubled by all they had witnessed.
The man knelt before each grave stone, spewing personal words to the cold granite slabs, as if they had the ears to hear him. A small disturbance rustled in the brush, the old man purposefully erected himself above his cane to face the unusual visitor. A young teenage girl slowly eased open the rickety gate, its screeches breaking the silence of a rather still day. She was very aware of the old man’s presence, but refused to engage him in conversation till she was standing in his shadow.
“Hmmm you must be the Cemetery watchman.” The young girl spoke with a sense of doubt, as if she didn’t expect the old man existed till just now.
“Not one for pleasantries are you my dear?” the old man spoke slow and shaky pausing carefully to collect his words.
“Yes I am the caretaker of this resting place, and what might be your name dear?” the young girl craned her head, surveying the small cemetery.
“Seems to be a mess if you ask me, you must not do a very good job around here. And my name is Amy” The young girl caught the man’s gaze to see if her words had provoked him in any way. But the man simply chuckled at the brashness of her youth.
“Well Amy it’s not the landscape I tend to dear, it’s the memories.”
“The memories? What could you possibly mean by that, you tend to what memories?” the old man smiled, he was in awe of her curiosity. A sensation he had long since out grown.
“I am the preserver, a historian if you will. I know everything that ever was about that little town.” The old man stretched out a feeble finger putting the town of Utopia at his finger tip on the horizon.
“What’s worth remembering about Utopia’s history? If we get caught up in the past we will lose sight of our future!” the girls words we obviously coached, her opinions had be designed by the school system and her elders. She clearly didn’t see the world the way the old man did.
“When man perishes, it is his history that remains. Not his goals for the future. If one becomes too caught up in progress and the obsessive hunt for perfection he loses sight in the beauty of the moment. Can I tell you a story young lady?” the man’s piercing eyes flushed with care, softly awaiting her reply.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“My dear you can’t properly listen to a story if you are not in a position to hear it! Let’s sit.” The man gestured for her to sit beside him, using the grave stone as a back rest for the both of them.
“Isn’t that disrespectful? To sit on a grave like that.” The girl seemed very concerned with the consequences of the man’s action.
“These people no longer hold value of earthly things, besides I knew most of these people and I am sure they would gladly give me a place to sit if they still happened to be alive. Now stop your worry and come have a seat.” The two sat beside each other in the dead weeds. Each of them on opposing ends of the human spectrum, but coming together to rehash a common interest. The man pulled a small green stem from the mass of perished organic matter. The man carefully examined the stem before releasing it to the wind and letting his eyes settle on the city scape before him.
“You see Time changes everything, and not always for the better. Decades pass sculpting the face of that little town like clay. Forming and reforming the stage. Changing the characters and changing the actors. Only the moving of the clock remains the same, the minute hand continues to move. But that doesn’t mean there are not lessons to be learned from the past, or memories to be cherished. 100 years ago this town was carved into that valley with one goal in mind. To create a tolerant paradise where all citizens could progress together in harmony. The founders of Utopia dreamed of a city where all its members could work toward creating a perfect environment, I city version of Heaven here on earth. So the people of Utopia aimed for just that, every day seeking to further perfect there little paradise and themselves as people. Before long the cultures only goal was obsession with making everything perfect. Not everyone could keep up with this ideal, but rather than be cast out of Utopia most decided to put up a façade, to act as though they were perfect. Before long this obsession had consumed the town, and I was the only one to speak out about the problem. Eventually they cast me out for speaking heresy. I tried to teach those people that the beauty in life is in the imperfections and that happiness is not attempting to make things perfect, but accepting the things you can’t change and being okay with that. But not a one listened to my words, it’s often that those who try to change the discourse are labeled at insane traitors. I knew my actions would lead to my exile but I had grown tired of the endless pursuit for something better, when life was already beautiful. And now here we are, I am exiled to this mountain top to preserve the past and the wisdoms life has taught me, and every day I look out over Utopia and see the ill effects of their duplicity and obsession. Everyone lying to one another, children forced to improve and perfect. And endless cavalcade of new surgeries to perfect the body and mind, they seek to achieve a goal that will never be reached. The grass is always greener, and you can only give chase for so long before your body withers and your mind is exhausted.” The man’s words trailed off, his age made him tire in the most trivial of actions, and his rant had drained his energy reserves. The girl looked into the old man’s eyes.
“What can we do?” concern permeated her voice. It was clear the old man had captured the young girls inspiration.
“We, I am afraid nothing in that context, but you… you can always make a change.” The old man was growing even shorter of breath. He paused between words even longer than before.
“How, I am just a teenager. One teenager! How could I change anything of importance.”
“What you do with your life, may change what other people do with theirs. And like ripples in a water, in time you can affect the entire lake. I think I am going to nap for a short while, I am sorry. I wish you the best Amy.” The old man closed his eyes breathing deeply to relax his body. Amy stood up and began her journey back down the hillside toward her home. All the while the old man watched thinking of the ripple he just created and in that thought he finally found peace with which to rest.
The man knelt before each grave stone, spewing personal words to the cold granite slabs, as if they had the ears to hear him. A small disturbance rustled in the brush, the old man purposefully erected himself above his cane to face the unusual visitor. A young teenage girl slowly eased open the rickety gate, its screeches breaking the silence of a rather still day. She was very aware of the old man’s presence, but refused to engage him in conversation till she was standing in his shadow.
“Hmmm you must be the Cemetery watchman.” The young girl spoke with a sense of doubt, as if she didn’t expect the old man existed till just now.
“Not one for pleasantries are you my dear?” the old man spoke slow and shaky pausing carefully to collect his words.
“Yes I am the caretaker of this resting place, and what might be your name dear?” the young girl craned her head, surveying the small cemetery.
“Seems to be a mess if you ask me, you must not do a very good job around here. And my name is Amy” The young girl caught the man’s gaze to see if her words had provoked him in any way. But the man simply chuckled at the brashness of her youth.
“Well Amy it’s not the landscape I tend to dear, it’s the memories.”
“The memories? What could you possibly mean by that, you tend to what memories?” the old man smiled, he was in awe of her curiosity. A sensation he had long since out grown.
“I am the preserver, a historian if you will. I know everything that ever was about that little town.” The old man stretched out a feeble finger putting the town of Utopia at his finger tip on the horizon.
“What’s worth remembering about Utopia’s history? If we get caught up in the past we will lose sight of our future!” the girls words we obviously coached, her opinions had be designed by the school system and her elders. She clearly didn’t see the world the way the old man did.
“When man perishes, it is his history that remains. Not his goals for the future. If one becomes too caught up in progress and the obsessive hunt for perfection he loses sight in the beauty of the moment. Can I tell you a story young lady?” the man’s piercing eyes flushed with care, softly awaiting her reply.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“My dear you can’t properly listen to a story if you are not in a position to hear it! Let’s sit.” The man gestured for her to sit beside him, using the grave stone as a back rest for the both of them.
“Isn’t that disrespectful? To sit on a grave like that.” The girl seemed very concerned with the consequences of the man’s action.
“These people no longer hold value of earthly things, besides I knew most of these people and I am sure they would gladly give me a place to sit if they still happened to be alive. Now stop your worry and come have a seat.” The two sat beside each other in the dead weeds. Each of them on opposing ends of the human spectrum, but coming together to rehash a common interest. The man pulled a small green stem from the mass of perished organic matter. The man carefully examined the stem before releasing it to the wind and letting his eyes settle on the city scape before him.
“You see Time changes everything, and not always for the better. Decades pass sculpting the face of that little town like clay. Forming and reforming the stage. Changing the characters and changing the actors. Only the moving of the clock remains the same, the minute hand continues to move. But that doesn’t mean there are not lessons to be learned from the past, or memories to be cherished. 100 years ago this town was carved into that valley with one goal in mind. To create a tolerant paradise where all citizens could progress together in harmony. The founders of Utopia dreamed of a city where all its members could work toward creating a perfect environment, I city version of Heaven here on earth. So the people of Utopia aimed for just that, every day seeking to further perfect there little paradise and themselves as people. Before long the cultures only goal was obsession with making everything perfect. Not everyone could keep up with this ideal, but rather than be cast out of Utopia most decided to put up a façade, to act as though they were perfect. Before long this obsession had consumed the town, and I was the only one to speak out about the problem. Eventually they cast me out for speaking heresy. I tried to teach those people that the beauty in life is in the imperfections and that happiness is not attempting to make things perfect, but accepting the things you can’t change and being okay with that. But not a one listened to my words, it’s often that those who try to change the discourse are labeled at insane traitors. I knew my actions would lead to my exile but I had grown tired of the endless pursuit for something better, when life was already beautiful. And now here we are, I am exiled to this mountain top to preserve the past and the wisdoms life has taught me, and every day I look out over Utopia and see the ill effects of their duplicity and obsession. Everyone lying to one another, children forced to improve and perfect. And endless cavalcade of new surgeries to perfect the body and mind, they seek to achieve a goal that will never be reached. The grass is always greener, and you can only give chase for so long before your body withers and your mind is exhausted.” The man’s words trailed off, his age made him tire in the most trivial of actions, and his rant had drained his energy reserves. The girl looked into the old man’s eyes.
“What can we do?” concern permeated her voice. It was clear the old man had captured the young girls inspiration.
“We, I am afraid nothing in that context, but you… you can always make a change.” The old man was growing even shorter of breath. He paused between words even longer than before.
“How, I am just a teenager. One teenager! How could I change anything of importance.”
“What you do with your life, may change what other people do with theirs. And like ripples in a water, in time you can affect the entire lake. I think I am going to nap for a short while, I am sorry. I wish you the best Amy.” The old man closed his eyes breathing deeply to relax his body. Amy stood up and began her journey back down the hillside toward her home. All the while the old man watched thinking of the ripple he just created and in that thought he finally found peace with which to rest.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
A Walk In Time
A loving embrace of hands, a connection made thousands of times before, but this one was just a little more significant. The wrinkly hands damaged by sun and time held a strong embrace as the couple strolled through the summertime scene. Their surroundings where of no concern to them as they shared mutual experiences of years since past. laughing at some memories and sharing a collective silence for others. so much had brought them to this point on the calender. Sixty years between their first meeting and this exact moment. so many things had gone wrong and so many right, to lead them to this moment. the old lady with shining silver in her hair drew her partner closer.
"So many years, so many memories." her soft lips uttered the nostalgia of the moment. the old man turned to catch her gaze.
"It wasn't easy for me to get here ya know?" a playful smile chased his comment.
"I just had to know that you where the one, i couldn't just give my love away for free." and her playful smile matched his. the old man recollected all that it took to get him to this point with her. all the fights, all the heartbreak, all the emotions and all the moments their relationship was almost dashed to bits. the man came to one conclusion on his retrospective glance back at time... it was all worth the while. The man spilled the confession of his love, just as he ad for the first time all those years ago, "I fucking love you Ava Elizabeth Robertson"
"So many years, so many memories." her soft lips uttered the nostalgia of the moment. the old man turned to catch her gaze.
"It wasn't easy for me to get here ya know?" a playful smile chased his comment.
"I just had to know that you where the one, i couldn't just give my love away for free." and her playful smile matched his. the old man recollected all that it took to get him to this point with her. all the fights, all the heartbreak, all the emotions and all the moments their relationship was almost dashed to bits. the man came to one conclusion on his retrospective glance back at time... it was all worth the while. The man spilled the confession of his love, just as he ad for the first time all those years ago, "I fucking love you Ava Elizabeth Robertson"
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Twilights First and Last Dance
Poetic ghosts of familiar personalities find their way to the dance floor, etching seems and wrinkles in time. Capsulating a life time of experience in the blink of a moment. All that was plays out for one teary set of eyes. The gentle hum of music plays out an emotional rollercoaster, crashing into tears and rising into smiles. Father time relaxes in the moment relishing in his uselessness. The creator takes created by the hand, introducing young eyes to the true beauty of existence.
Monday, October 24, 2011
The End
The End
The city was alive with panic. It was almost humors to me in the darkest sense of the word. Removing the stability, the routine, the false sense of safety we all believed in. removal cause complete and utter chaos, Social anarchy. We were all going to die regardless. The sirens where just a useless warning of our impeding trip to the grave. We couldn’t escape the blast radius. Not with how little time we had, but that didn’t stop the hordes of people from flooding the streets in a desperate attempt to escape the urban jungle. Literally clawing over top one another like animals. No regard for anyone other than their own blood. Which was again humorous for we all have the same blood. Yet we make distinctions. Caring more for our own families than other people, justifiable selfishness.
Few religious devote praying in the streets, pleading with their gods for salvation. But god didn’t cause this tragedy.it was man with all his science and knowledge man chose to destroy itself. The few at the top decided obliterating each other was more important than losing their power. They blamed the possible evil of foreign powers to justify acting evilly themselves, and their flawed logic was to be the end of us all.
Sitting atop the skyscraper ensure me a front row seat to the carnage. But it wasn’t the carnage I came to see. It was life, because in those final moments I could see what everyone had lived for. Those praying to god had lived for religion. Desperately trying to appease the divine forces so that they may be granted life after death. Those trying to save their own kin amongst the chaos had lived for their family, so that their lineage would be carried on. Those desperately trying to flee to safety alone lived in fear of death. Doing everything they could to escape it. Those who decided one last act of intoxication or sexual acts was the best way to go out, they lived for pleasure so that their memories would live on joyously in their mind. And me? I lived for nothing, so death has nothing to take.
I was simply a watcher. My life’s purpose was examination. Silently watching, calculating, seeking to understand humanity and life in its purest form, and I got exactly what I wanted. The rawest display of why people live. Only the fleeting moments of life and the introduction of death could craft such a pure cinematic. The splitting of an insignificant atom would incinerate us all, and everything we lived for with it. Only ashy silhouettes would remain.
The city was alive with panic. It was almost humors to me in the darkest sense of the word. Removing the stability, the routine, the false sense of safety we all believed in. removal cause complete and utter chaos, Social anarchy. We were all going to die regardless. The sirens where just a useless warning of our impeding trip to the grave. We couldn’t escape the blast radius. Not with how little time we had, but that didn’t stop the hordes of people from flooding the streets in a desperate attempt to escape the urban jungle. Literally clawing over top one another like animals. No regard for anyone other than their own blood. Which was again humorous for we all have the same blood. Yet we make distinctions. Caring more for our own families than other people, justifiable selfishness.
Few religious devote praying in the streets, pleading with their gods for salvation. But god didn’t cause this tragedy.it was man with all his science and knowledge man chose to destroy itself. The few at the top decided obliterating each other was more important than losing their power. They blamed the possible evil of foreign powers to justify acting evilly themselves, and their flawed logic was to be the end of us all.
Sitting atop the skyscraper ensure me a front row seat to the carnage. But it wasn’t the carnage I came to see. It was life, because in those final moments I could see what everyone had lived for. Those praying to god had lived for religion. Desperately trying to appease the divine forces so that they may be granted life after death. Those trying to save their own kin amongst the chaos had lived for their family, so that their lineage would be carried on. Those desperately trying to flee to safety alone lived in fear of death. Doing everything they could to escape it. Those who decided one last act of intoxication or sexual acts was the best way to go out, they lived for pleasure so that their memories would live on joyously in their mind. And me? I lived for nothing, so death has nothing to take.
I was simply a watcher. My life’s purpose was examination. Silently watching, calculating, seeking to understand humanity and life in its purest form, and I got exactly what I wanted. The rawest display of why people live. Only the fleeting moments of life and the introduction of death could craft such a pure cinematic. The splitting of an insignificant atom would incinerate us all, and everything we lived for with it. Only ashy silhouettes would remain.
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