Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Saturday, February 04, 2012

Newly Fallen Snow

I am tired...so I close my eyes 
and whisper I love you.

To never wake in the arms of love,
or fall asleep with that special one.
That is loneliness and  full despair,
imagining the emptiness without 
you here.

Why is it that choices are never easy? 
I think it has to do with the outcome.

I wanna believe that everything is possible...

I saw the dock,
boats in a row,
snow covered,
rocking slow. 

The river calling,
the wind strong,
as waves race to
meet the shore. 

Season passing,
days gone by, 
hello my love
and goodbye.

Darkness teasing,
the black of night,
creates a mass,
that I cannot fight.

I don't how I got to this point,
but I do know there is no going back.

Screams in silence,
for that which will never be. 

Shards of glass,
splinter the mind,
reminders of yesterday,
and happier times.

The fragments so small,
pierce the heart and soul,
leaving upon the spirit,
a chill that takes it toll.

The winter has been gracious so far. There have been  no bouts with major storms in the area. The wind has not roared and we have had no accumulation really worth reporting. Matter of fact the weather temperatures have been unusually warm that I couldn't help but look forward to spring. The snow that is falling reminds me most of a March snow, here today gone tomorrow. The days lighter cast their rays upon the newly fallen snow and the sparkle creates a shimmer affect that catches the eye.

I couldn't help but think of times of comfort and happiness and wanting  them to last forever. It is inevitable that with each new day a new experience will arise, unless of course we choose to hide from life. The snow untouched has a pristine glow and upon  a closer observation it looks like antique lace woven into natures most magical tapestry. I felt child like wanting to make that first footprint in the snow and  at the same time wanting to hide under a warm blanket. My mind drifts to happier thoughts and I find myself embraced by a calm.

My sister called late last night, it was close to midnight. It is very unusual for her to call so late at night. I quickly asked if anything was wrong but I could instantly tell by her voice that she was agitated. She asked me "why  have we made or continue to make the same choices?" There was no one answer, at times upbringing played a part, she called it " brain washing." But no matter how you look at it our response to life does come from our early experiences. Though I do think there are many reasons we make the choices we do. Sometimes its being selfish or unselfish, confident or insecure, filled with hope or in despair. She rambled a little, I listened and at the same time I knew she was trying to find her own answers. She fell into the trap of the " I shoulda, coulda, woulda." After all was said and done and almost two hours later she said, "if we only knew then what we know now." I pondered a little while longer on that statement, " if only we knew then what we know now." I felt a sadness come over me, the person whom I had looked up to all my life, revealed her own weakness, her sorrow, her mistakes and a journey as she saw it without hope." I thought to myself it's not over, we are just in another chapter, new roads, opportunities and cliche" places to go and people meet. " I tried to emphasize that you can't go back and that to live life to its fullest you just keeping going forward. It just reminds me of one of my favorite writings from Shakespeare. Everyone of us as a part to play and as time goes on and other vulnerabilities surface we realize that our time of exit is really out of our control.

 Shakespeare's As You Like It, 1600:
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

While I Am Here

While I watch the snowflakes fall,
I'll be grateful as we can lose it all,
time of weakness and that of strength,
a reminder that we sit in the hands of fate.

While I am here and the time so short,
I'll count my blessing as my soul retorts,
not of anger or vengeance shall we go,
it is with love's embrace that guides us so.

I'll write our names in the heavens blue ,
seared forever with my love for you.
Happiness traced and all will see just
how much you really mean to me.

While I am here on this earthly plateau,
I'll complete the journey before I go,
for I have loved and loved received,
and secured in my heart for all eternity.


1 comment:

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