The Becoming

“Look at the sky. Does its sapphire hue dim when you take a single breath? Are the stars drawn closer when you weep? The sky cannot be diminished so. Thus it is with the spirit: it is a thing without beginning or end.” – Elaine Cunningham, Realms of the Arcane 
Dennis Auburn Miles

With dark magic you break into the caverns of my memories. A vaporous arcane finger begins its assault on my sequestered passions and in an absolution of experience, all visions of women begin to morph into beauties reflecting you. I labor with the change, and find my smile is a close companion in willing submission to your spell. How is my power taken so quickly in our interludes? I blame it on the slipping years, their subtle grip slowing my resistance, and with gradual persistence, opening my world to your reaching grasp. A knowing glance chases my hesitations, and with prowess you pursue my remaining enclaves. You and I now, become we.

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My Tree

Inspired by the death of a friend, the birth of a granddaughter, an ache in my aged bones, and the prayers of my youth.


bbeingmee

Mixed emotions gather in mushroomed gray lined clouds, a fever pitch of worried concern and loss of beloved companions. Friends carried away like leaves in the gusts, piling against some unseen barrier far away from my tree. Familial doves alight from my branches in pursuit of a roost built by man. Could this tree ever hold them? Life is a tornado of ever changing events, blink and their gone, but I need to close my eyes, the dust of change causes pain. Age pursues me with a ravenous appetite, lying like a pride of lions before the pool of forever hope. Will I drink, or will I be consumed, to be a part of something else, my bones becoming their bones, my blood bringing health to their blood? Sweet Peace, where have you hidden yourself? Are you in the garden, hiding behind a tree? Come to me and share your priceless trinkets. Blinking back tears, pressing against the incoming tide, I swallow inevitable foamed certainties. I pulled an old jar from the ground beneath my tree. In it I hid inscribed hope with these words: God dances over me with joy and He will give me rest. I close my eyes in a sleep that only comes to those who labored hard in the fields, harvesting crops of contentment from the begrudging earth.

Shadow – Lessons from a dark friend

“Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?”Henry David Thoreau  

tihku

It is an image unlike any living visage, stretching further, a distortion that discerns reality. This is the shadow. The position of light influences the distortion of it, happening without my conscious decision. My only control is where I place myself in reference to the light. What is the light that I stand in? Where will this light strike me? This determines the length and breadth of my darkened friend. If run from that light I find darkness with every step. When I face the light, my path lit with comforting revelation. it’s discouraging at first, to see my faults and missteps in the glaring brightness, but it’s comforting to find that at least I am dealing with reality. This reality is always harsh, but it provides facts that help me to face change.

It’s a difficult and unnerving venture into light’s reality. There are benefits though. I can see farther down my path to the repercussions of my actions. This brings hope. Hope allows me to take bolder steps into the light. It is not for me to know my faults and shrink back in fear, but to grapple my choices, both those that are made in the past and those being made at the moment, discerning them and learning. 
Learning can happen without having to experience the actions contemplated. Watching my fellow companions walk in the light, or walking away, brings an illustration to my lessons. In either case, light is important. When walking away, the light shows the way back. When walking into it, it shows the way to stay in it. Come my shadow, let me watch you carefully, letting your blackened representation be a guide to the truth and bringing assurance of my direction. 

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

Shadow – Lessons from a dark friend

“Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?”Henry David Thoreau  

tihku

It is an image unlike any living visage, stretching further, a distortion that discerns reality. This is the shadow. The position of light influences the distortion of it, happening without my conscious decision. My only control is where I place myself in reference to the light. What is the light that I stand in? Where will this light strike me? This determines the length and breadth of my darkened friend. If run from that light I find darkness with every step. When I face the light, my path lit with comforting revelation. it’s discouraging at first, to see my faults and missteps in the glaring brightness, but it’s comforting to find that at least I am dealing with reality. This reality is always harsh, but it provides facts that help me to face change.

It’s a difficult and unnerving venture into light’s reality. There are benefits though. I can see farther down my path to the repercussions of my actions. This brings hope. Hope allows me to take bolder steps into the light. It is not for me to know my faults and shrink back in fear, but to grapple my choices, both those that are made in the past and those being made at the moment, discerning them and learning. 
Learning can happen without having to experience the actions contemplated. Watching my fellow companions walk in the light, or walking away, brings an illustration to my lessons. In either case, light is important. When walking away, the light shows the way back. When walking into it, it shows the way to stay in it. Come my shadow, let me watch you carefully, letting your blackened representation be a guide to the truth and bringing assurance of my direction. 

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

Masks – Behind the facades of faces you think you know

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.Oscar Wilde

I take a minute, to look out from the world that is me, to see carefully maintained facades in the all the faces looking back. I understand I’m the same, different from what you perceive, disguised in my intentions. I have masks to hide the things that my mind thinks, hiding my brokenness, deceiving you, protecting me. Crafting these masks carefully in the heat of pain, shame polishing the rough edges to a delightful smile, I take cover from you my companion, or you my enemy. These facades have mistakenly become my reality, deceiving myself with this subterfuge and believing my lies, I must lay these falsehoods down, baring my soul to keep my identity. My friends, enemies, and acquaintances, “Who will lay their masks down?” I hear no reply, so let me be first. See into my soul, I’ll not hide. But, you know I’m lying, I spent to long on this mask, to tear it up just for you. I have good intentions in mind, however, most of the time, I plan on getting what I want, even if it’s under the guise of my kind smile.

Also published in Broowaha
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