A Journal of Sorts
"when a man lies he murders some part of the world these are the pale deaths which men miscall their lives" ~ Metallica ~ forget the dates, forget the times, just focus on the inner rhymes... and remember... and remember... and remember, remember to remember... but who has time today... there was a time when I wrote all the time and did not record anything chronologically... the words just flowed without restriction or any sort of fomal structuring except the flow into rhymes that just seemed to come without planning or thinking about it... when I wrote for myself to organize my thoughts and figure out my feelings... when I wrote for the love of writing... and when I wrote for the love of the friends who shared life... it was a time before the betrayals and the losses... when forgiveness came easy and understanding was simple and love was natural... a time before the cruelty and disillusionment... when believing I would find another who believed as I do in true love and innocence and creating a family was easy because I felt a whole lifetime still ahead of me... a time when my smile came from believing without a shadow of doubt that dreams really do come true... now, alone, with a truckload of wondering if anybody really will ever actualize the dream I dream... and wondering if I'll find someone who will not run from (or abuse) innocence and unconditional trust... but doubts and fears are just obstacles and convenient excuses I don't want to buy into, so rambling on past them the only real obstacle to sharing is being alone and not having a partner today... sharing takes two... so when I really come back to remembering I am back to wondering if I will ever find anyone who understands me... I'd like to just slide past the woe is me part of this and get right back into the hopelessly hopeful romantic dreaming part, but with the life of working all the time and sleeping (and eating and just about everything else) on the fly I'm leading these days I don't know if I have that much energy tonight J on the other hand, what's the difference the life I live today is very lonely it's challenging to believe in the suspence or in the dream of sharing coming true om the other hand, without believing there's no way for a dream to come true what we're giving is what we're receiving and all I am is all I offer you |
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