Regrettably Drifting

Whether it’s trough a storm of emotions, memories that haunt, instances that have been impossible to remove from the heart, through words leaving scars, tangled in arms that have healed, there is a slow and steady drift. Towards and away, ebb and flow, constant tug of war, unending circular motion through hurt and pain. Then you feel the pull, from left to right, to a monotonous beat, to melodious variations in different times and different places. Somewhere in this aimless drift there has got to be direction. To that notion you rest your weight on the stranger next to you. Darkness falls silently.

It began with an almost unnoticeable current: just a breeze that gently nudged the unsuspecting sailboat. Frail as it went out to sea, unable to keep its bearing, succumbing to the masterful pull of the moon. On that boat lay a hopeful life. Hopeful and unwise, facetious and careless in attending to the forceful wind. The ever drifting machinery, the means of success or a despicable end. As for a hunted prey, the fear is overtaken by rational and clear thought. To survive.

 

Amidst the calmness the seas may roar. The paths may be closed by ravenous vines hoping to see a soul fall. Feed no other need but the need of hunger, simple, complacent hunger. The spirit will follow. Each choice is then veered either this or that way. Beyond the control of any wind in sail.  Beyond that realm of possibility lies happenstance. Serene and serious, the way we have set sail to is north, by chance. Stumbled upon the guidance of those wiser before us, but ultimately unable to keep to the rhythm of their words. The dance catches the tender hearts, the beats throb through the skin and bones, the cage that protects the muscle and sinew. Then like a feather leaving on a journey with the winds, the dancers fall to the luscious rhythm of each promise unkept. The direction changes, the paths unwind, the good moon stays unmoved, the winds take the sails and head them a new way. Drifting, I wait.  

The night clears the day before of the harmful thoughts. Night pulls its veil over every error, every unkind word. Softens the ground on which the unforgiven will fall. Night quiets the cacophony of daylight deliverance. Merciful are the forces of nature, allow the memories to take place, to roam the heart and soul, to conjure images long gone, revive conversations long forgotten. For a moment the drifting halts. In that moment I find you, unchanged, still from the will that suspends the reach of time or space. We lock hands, pull each other closer. Just as I feel you our time is gone. The night is merciful or patient no longer. I drift further, let go of the old, seek new instead. Peace comes in many forms, some painful, some sacrificial, some unnoticed.

The slow and steady drift enters unseen. Shifting direction then holding still. Through gasping holes of sorrow. Through overflowing love. Through brittle and dry land. Through mazelike marshlands. Through the dying sun and the killing moon. Through each life lived unpained. Through forgiveness. Through grace. Through the unending beauty in letting go. Drifting slowly, drifting, fortunately. 

No Tears Will Flow

It is easy to be drawn to your world. The scope of despair does not repel. There is a sea of darkness that poses mystery and it attracts. Brokenness, like a virtue, like a lesson taught by the many taunting instances of history leaves the soul bare, leaves the outside yearning to be let in. You are somber, accepting the course of fate that should befall. It is the desire of one, it is the pleasure of one. This world protects its own and offers merely a glimpse for those who wish to gain an understanding. You appear true, truer than anything else these eyes have seen. The perfect gimmick or just fooled by the haze of your secretive ways. Come offer these thoughts, unveil your plans, calm the storms with your centuries old wisdom. It is easy to be drawn to your world, there is truth in the roots, there is hope hidden somewhere in the back alleys of memories centered around a day when life as you knew it changed.

The sadness is so deep that no tears will flow. It is earthed in the most sacred burrow of your soul. It asks nobody for forgiveness, it haunts no idea in pursuit of change. Your soul, like a giant, takes the sadness to harness grace and humility. With each battle lost you know that you must learn. They are your people and their sadness, your own. You have seen them resilient and you have seen them crack under the burden. You have never seen them betray the only idea they live to protect. The sadness comes from generations being denied the freedom to falter. It deepens with every boy becoming a man, with every will overturned, with every silent plea never reaching the makeshift wall to bounce off of. Herein lies the inattackable concept: truth brings about infinite sadness.

The cycle of life must continue. Out of boredom or a heightened sense of duty, the task is carried on, the sadness passed from mother to son, the darkness kept out of sight of the rotating Sun. There is consensus that this deed must be done. It is a hereditary tendency, encoded in the genes of everyone from your world. Despair. Despair at the state of the now, at the thought of the past, at the bleak possibilities the future holds. It seemed some of those thoughts were more highly regarded than others. There is fault in your unending sadness, there is danger in your world of despair, there is caution that begs for attention over your all encompassing darkness. Still, your world attracts for it lights the way to further self search. It is a source for truth.

You are not moved. Not even by the bustling spring landscape? If my soul was better, purer, whiter, I would follow. Spring captures me. Sends me years ahead in the future, fills me with hope. Life, once again, is showing its power. Despair now has no room in my heart. Darkness banished, brokenness forgotten. Yet, not at all. With every petal appearing there is an urgency to turn towards the founding notions of your world. Beauty seen as a hindrance only to be used as an aid in painting the infinite power of one. You have made a deal. A union so sacred that complete surrender sends you standing strong at the edge of anguish. I long to follow. To believe as well as you. To long for the sadness as much as you have made it your soul’s desire. To want the dark, inexplicable despair. To know a sadness so deep that no tears will flow.

My Name: The Veil of Ignorance

The things happened have been curious, almost heavenly in their detail. There was an idea, a longing, there came substance and through heavy breaths the concept was born. The melodious flow of life, the featherweight injustices that befall instantly. Helplessness is the first lesson to learn. In broad daylight the thieves came and robbed you of your very first day. The day that all other days are measured to.

There is power in your graceful slowness. How spring leans in, only just mocking, only just snickering at our efforts to change, to undress, to clench the faint sunshine. Time bound you to its side and you are aware of nothing. No need to hide, to ever remember these days, they are swallowed whole by the intangible black matter. You may never know the importance or the burden of the beginning, of every single beginning. In thick darkness came the notion that formed the substance which lead to namesake. Before you know there will be a life chained to you, forever you will be bound by the mistakes of those before you, the thoughts of those after you. There is no path you can choose that will save you from the struggles. This here is how it starts.

You will soon learn how futile your voice is. Screaming down the things hateful to you, and nobody to suggest change. The reaction will be nothing you had ever anticipated. Claims will fly high overhead that you would have wanted this or that. Your voice will go silent, your cries will be muffled, your every effort to move towards that which you want will be halted by a forceful giant. You will lie there motionless. You will not matter until you manage to state your claim: you have been ignorant of these ways. Visibility on a clear night will be compromised and with the popping of the open fire each will retire in sweet belief that you have what you want, you got exactly what you had wanted, you could never possibly want anything else. But you do. And you will. Until you are beaten down to accept that what you see is only ever what you can get.

Stay confined to the parameters you have been given and there will be no progress. You must flee the comfortable to know things better, different. You have to see people broken, miserable from the hardships they must endure. And you gloat in your luck of having been born into a luxurious part of the globe. Oh so comfortable. Learn to know no bounds, to see everything, to hear every opinion whether grand or small. You should keep days for when fear takes over, when hatred bubbles, when doubt and conceit creep in and your soul invites them. The rain may move you, but it may leave you completely still. For much of the way you will be alone. You will lie. One day you will see the end to this unsure beginning. The journey rests with you, whether you embark or not. Whether your eyes will be curious or your soul chained.

You will not meet people who know your name, so you must teach them. Kindness may evade or empty uncontrollably on you. You must search, from now until the end, for those who are honest, who are true, who will show you that whatever you learn from now will never be enough. There is only so much time that can be covered up with your veil of ignorance.

holes.

You were always so careful. You tread lightly so as not to break the bits inside you. Things that were misplaced or lost, you spent endless days trying to retrieve. The idea of perfect never left your shoulders. There it sat, dangled its feet, chuckled when doubt neared. The fragile had bubble wrap. The honest had rows of shields. The piercing rays that begged for a peak at your heart’s real state were repelled by the forceful concrete that you so carefully built, block by block. There were no cracks, no crumbling of the foundations. You have been a devoted keeper, a real master to that which has been trusted in your care.

Except these things burst and fall to millions of tiny pieces. On your watch it all becomes undone. This is no fault of your own, the inevitable is hard to evade if at all possible. You were just not prepared and chose to ignore the alarming signs. But there they were, behind the rows of shields, behind every lurking, curious light beam that found its way through the pores of that impermeable concrete. Everyone saw. When it was dark and there was nowhere else to look, we all saw that your heart had holes. Why are you not consoled with the know that we all do? Some hearts have tiny, some have gasping, some have growing, some have shrinking, but they all have unfillable holes. Holes where hurt has been.

 

Be brave. Be courageous and start to dissemble your constant guards. The journey will not be easier with them, it will not be always pleasant without them. You have done well for yourself till now. We have seen the full you, do not be ashamed. No heart is the same as the other, no life has the same purpose as another, no idea born out of want for change is in vain. You should feel so proud of your heart. It is with this imperfect heart that you will win wars, souls, other hearts that will follow. Follow your modest, lovely, stunningly beautiful, miraculous heart. When has hurt not made you stronger? When have your enemies not bowed once they have seen your shining, reluctant, truthful, humble heart? And you have been concealing it. You have been thinking it is to be shut away and now feel naked that your secret is out. We know. We know that your heart has holes too. Look up. Dry your eyes. This is time to learn to see how beautiful your heart is. Look how perfect in its imperfection. Look how alike it is to you. Learn this moment so you can teach others what it feels to finally see the seed inside.

You can never be sure and this anyone will guarantee. Wise men of all walks of life know only this: the heart has its holes, the sun its rays, the sky its wind. Honesty will cripple you, but a life lived without it kills instantly. Others around you are the same. Some try to fool you with words, grandiose statements that bend the ear and ring majestic for days on end. Some others masquerade the outside with stolen ornaments, shiny and facetious. There are roads that lead to nowhere lined with signs that direct. Countless traps wait for your child like, unsure step. There will be ghosts in the dark luring you towards the wondrous light. There will be kind souls shooting at you, wanting to see your demise.

You be strong now. Be sure of the heart you have. Know that it has its holes and that without its holes it would not be a heart at all. Know that love can only wrap itself around your heart through those holes.