Thursday, January 29, 2015


I sit on the beach...alone...which suits me just fine.  The waves keep me company.  These waves are my companions.  The wind is right here, too.  It's a cloudy day...well, not really, but here, right here, in this space, yes, it's cloudy...and I like it that way.  I want to delve into this scene.  What's there to delve into when the sun shines bright and illuminates everything?  No, the greys are conducive to writing, conducive to romance.  The sun is for children.

It's time I take off my clothes, again.  I hear that voice, "Why must you always take off your clothes?" I reply, "Fuck you! I'll take off my clothes if I wish to.  You're not welcome here...unless you want to watch."  The voice continues, "I'm not your enemy.  I simply help you see."  "Well, then listen to me...I take off my clothes as a symbol of freedom, of vulnerability, of spirituality.  This is my sacred space and I will do what I please."

I feel the passing of time.  I know they say time doesn't really exist but it has to.  It has to.  Everywhere I look, I see the face of time, how it's left an imprint on everything and everyone.  I see my lines, my curves, my scars...lines, curves and scars that were not there so many years ago.  In the moment, we cannot see nor receive these subtle and sometimes, drastic changes...but, always in retrospect, always when looking "back", we can "feel" the impact that these changes have made.

And then you see it, you see what you hadn't anticipated...that you have changed, too.  You are not your former self.  It looks like a shell of a person or a part of yourself, you've shed, something you've discarded...not, intentionally, though.  It was never intentional.  It just kind of happened...over time.  I don't recognize her.  I realize how wise it would have been for me to be gentle with her, not to be so harsh, so hard.  Maybe, that could have done wonders for me in this now.  But, I can't go back.  I try not to be so harsh as I look back, try not to judge her and her silly ways, her naive ways.  I try to be kind but there are moments...moments when I want to yell at her for having been so stupid.

But, how fair is that? It isn't.  Because I was who I was when I was...and I have to accept that, embrace it all.  It served a purpose.  I am here in my new skin and I am aware of a process I wasn't aware of then, of which I am grateful.  It can be sad, though...feeling a disconnect with the outer world, with the "other".  That's why I sit here, by the beach, with my body bare.  I take in the magic of this landscape, like food.  These are impressions, impressions I receive through my imagination.  If I don't make the effort, I starve.  I dry up...shrivel up.  No one is a true giver, not the way Nature offers herself to us, everyday in so many different ways.

Death will come.  Death will come, as sure as the sun will rise - in my time.  What will I leave behind?  I hope it's more than this body, this body that will rot away and return to the earth.  It saddens me that all things created by man MUST come to an end.  I need to lighten up some of this heaviness, I suppose.  Why do I need to sugarcoat the truth? Why not accept it for what it is, so that it doesn't bring me so much sadness?  Then again, what's wrong with some melancholy? It produces some of the greatest poets...poets who can see beyond the clouds, poets who can make use of these clouds, poets who can make you want to love these clouds...clouds that are just passing through...just passing through. 

Ah, finally...the rain.  I get up and take a few steps towards the water.  I'm alive.  I close my eyes and tilt my head back.  The water of the earth and the water of the skies come together to create the perfect music.  Let it rain a little bit longer.  Let me feel myself and my power.  Let this moment purify me.

I turn around and see my lonely sword upon the insignificant it now seems...No, wait a minute.  It isn't insignificant at all.  I notice how the blade shines in the distance and I remember...I've only just laid down my arms, temporarily.  I will retrieve it soon and it will want to be retrieved for the sword and I, are one.  I smile as I walk out of the water, and under the rain, towards my sword.  Here, as I said, I have no use for clothes...


Unknown said...
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Unknown said...

"I was who I was when I was"
Once again, and as always, an outstanding and mysterious fragment of what I suspect is a much greater narrative whole. My wish is to one day read the romance here offered piecemeal in deceptively subjective 'expressions'.
Ah, that we were more than just those clouds passing through... only Imagination and Love may reveal such Truth "Sub specie aeternitatis"