Wandering

A collection of writing I’ve done over the past few decades. These are personal in nature and may not be generally accepted. But for the one person who needs to read these passages, please feel welcome.

The Path (2014)

Much has been said about the path we take. Mostly, the lessons learned on our life’s quest are poignant at best.

The gravel is cracking beneath my feet. Only the wind through the bare branches and the chill enveloping my hands are my companions. The horizon hides behind rolling hills with dry brush and an occasional bunny rabbit.

The sky an eerie grayish calm. Color seems to be limited to grays and oranges and the occasional light blue. Mostly gray.

Just beyond the old oak tree the path curves slightly to the left and I find it again beyond as it rises up to the top of a hill.

I stop to observe my surroundings. I look back as a habit. I know that what I have passed was not worthy of stopping since I am here and not there. Just off the path more of the same thick prickly brush that I take as a sign that I am mostly unwelcome here except for the path.

I wonder if what is just beyond my sight is more satisfying than the gray around me. Time, the harlequin that has accompanied me for as long as I can remember, now beats my head. I often look to him to see his reaction to the direction I am taking.

I look down at my feet. My shoes are dirty but comfortable, eager to keep pace if their master wishes. The rest of my body however, doesn’t share the same eagerness.

Dusk is a few miles away. A step backwards will take me back towards the place where warmth can be found and where a meal can be had. But a step forward, well there’s just no telling. Perhaps I can acquire those things and a glass of wine as a reward to my curiosity. Or some gloves to cover my dry cracked hands. Or maybe there is more of the same jagged brush. More gray.

And just as I ponder the next step, my legs, one after the other begin their trek toward the summit in front of me. Dusk will have to catch me there.

Today is just another day (12.16.22)

today is a friday

a day to end the work week

a day to begin the weekend

a day to savor or discard

today is just another day

a day a few months into a connection

a day many days into a love affair

a normal day but what day is normal?

what will today bring?

today is just another day

it feels like yesterday and perhaps tomorrow too

but today i am thinking about someone

today i am thinking about love

today i am thinking about you

today is just another day

A Call Into the Wind (09.12.22)
The wind blows past me as a stream passes over rock.
Rustling leaves above and tall grass bends over the horizon.
Thoughts of precious pockets of Time pool in my head.
Still, a void lingers. Lurks. Taunting me until I look up to the heavens offering my faith.
My lips whisper words that are known to God and me alone.
Hours pass and the air becomes dense and cool.
I will return on the morrow and resume my call.
The wind will carry it, seeking my love anew.

A Room (10/26/20)
I live in a room
I live in a room of a house
I live in a room of a house I bought with my wife
I live in a room of a house that used to be my family
I live in a room of a house that I thought would house us for at least a decade
I live in a room of a house that I used to think was mine
I live in a room of a house that I cared about yet was invisible (edit from original)
I live in a room of a house that has been neglected
I live in a room of a house that no longer supports love
I live in a room of a house that has grown cold
I live in a room of a house
I live in a room

MADNESS
Running from the madness, media and melancholy of modern (CHAOS) life and into your arms, everything meaning nothing, only the here and now.

GREMLINS
Out to get me, those undying gremlins (CHAOS). They want to catch me only to tear me apart… Eat me they will, but the soul is the hardest to swallow

LA NOCHE
Los sueños que tengo durante la obscuridad de la noche son los momentos mas brillantes si son sueños de ti.

CAPTURE
It is when I see your smile, your tears, your gaze, that I wish I was a poet, an artist, a photographer, anyone that can capture that moment of profound radiance. Love is but a word… Come see what love incarnate is

PHOTOGRAPHS
Captured images of relative bliss
When all we wanted was time
A powerful reminder of choices we’ve made
Joyful and painful all in the same frame
Did we think it would last forever

DARKNESS
The darkness comes again…it looks for me
It knows that I am weak now,
that I will not put up a fight.
It comes for me because the light has left me,
abandoned me.
I sit and wait. Despite the darkness, I do.
It weighs me down like dozens of sprawling
hands pulling me into a sea of despair.

The Screen
The sound of falling rain
a calming yet cold assurance
that my love shares the same fate.
I look to see if she calls but she hasn’t, no surprise.
What would I do if she was here as if time and circumstance could reconcile.
Would I think tomorrow’s Monday, big day ahead?
No, not so sure what I’d think.
Maybe I should sift through pictures while I drink
then I can rest my head and rise anew.
For tomorrow is Monday, another day of things gone blue.

Seat Covers

Using seat covers protect the seats from wear but won’t let you feel/use them the way they were designed to. This is my paradox.

PENTALES – Currently 3 of 5 short stories. Excerpts below.

Man holding cigarette with smoke in black background and lighting on hand
Man holding cigarette with smoke in black background and lighting on hand