Tag: dark

I Love Beautiful Dark Things – Not all things dark are evil

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” – Mary Oliver
afanador
I love beautiful dark things,
that bring shadow to your life,
making things come alive,
with depth and mystery.
These beautiful dark things
are what’s between bright and nothing,
a hope of a world beyond extremes.
 
I love beautiful dark things,
without which you’re two dimensional.
Lost on the page of life.
I bring direction with my beautiful dark things,
They show you where the light is,
the subtlety of life,
bringing texture from flat canvas.
 
I love beautiful dark things,
Not all that’s dark is contrary to light.
I’m wherever light is found,
I’m the coolness in the heat,
I’m the protection on the run.
Beautiful dark things are
mysteries of things to come,
A shroud to cover your soul.
 
I love beautiful dark things…
 Also published in Broowaha
09022011
Advertisement

The Hermit Chronicles: Castle Of Singularity

“…Disgusted at the guilt or absurdity of Mankind, the Misanthrope flies from it: He resolves to become a Hermit, and buries himself in the Cavern of some gloomy Rock…” – Matthew Gregory Lewis, The Monk
seattlestravels

I existed alone, in a little cave of nowhere, and was quite content to exactly be where I didn’t know. Gladly retiring to my castle of singularity, I sensed others, not prowling, but curious of my existence. I hid quietly, waiting for them to pass by like so many times before, but then the rustling stopped, the leaves breathlessly announcing a turn in the path leading to me. The steps crunched closer and my hiding place is revealed. I’ve discovered many places to hide, and in spite of my camouflage, there I’m found. I don’t want them to find me, I want to remain secluded, my resources won’t support their hunger and thirst. No matter how I try, they come. With desires no man can tame, they press me out of my comfort, pushing me to give a portion of myself. What is it about a man who desires no pleasure of company, that lures so many to invite themselves to just that, his company? The more I push and pull from society, the more curiosity I inspire. Can’t they just pass by and stop following me down these endless circling, rocky paths? Then only to lay on me the guilt of their choice saying, “You never looked out for us, you led us down the wrong path”. Turn back little ones, fair maidens, here in this dark cave lies great desire, desire that will fuel the pain of loss, for only when you desire much can your hopes be dashed against the longing, when all you sought disappears in the dark once again.

05102013

The Hermit Chronicles: Aimless

“The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet 
and greet unknown fate.“
chymecindy
In the early dawn, the dark and the bright birth
My silver cage flew open, and I wandered,
Aimless
 
In the cool of the morning, the placenta of night
My foundling feet find rhythm, and I wandered,
Aimless
 
In the heat of noon, the umbilical light a rage
My downy wings grow furious, and I wandered,
Aimless
 
In the dying day, the flower of life now closing
My infant dreams lay in grasses, and I wandered,

Somnambulation –

 “I don’t know,” he said. “I just feel like I have to do something.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t know. That’s what’s wrong. Or part of what’s wrong. I feel like I’m sleepwalking.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Attachments
beckycloonan
Once I was awake and aware,
not that long ago I swear.
Sleep walking and as I go,
moving is unkindly slow.
Force a smile but for me,
awake again will never be.
Doomed to wander in this fright,
dark in here is always light.
In a slumbering place I shake,
always walking never awake.
First Published in Opinions of Eye

Leap Of Faith –

“The foolish ask many questions the wise cannot answer” – Oscar Wilde
“Of the making of books there is no end, and much study leads to exhaustion.” 

 

Questions are a sign of intelligence and creativity but they can lead to an endless, tortuous circle of reasoning. Why did that tragedy happen to me? Is God male or female? Will I know people after I die? These inquiries can exhaust my mental and emotional energy, leaving me with no strength to push through the day at hand. Questioning my beliefs, my existence, my experience, is necessary, but I must lay down these pursuits and find a place of peaceful existence should my questions go unanswered. What follows is a leap of faith that eventually brings sense of well-being to my life. There I have to understand that I don’t understand, admit my finite power of mind, lay down my notepad, my calculator, my psychoanalysis, and find the peace that will guide me though the dark valley of the unknown.
 
Also published on Broowaha
First published in Opinionsofeye.com
12122011 

Into The Dark – Take me to your dark places –

“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.”
spurs-32

 

I‘ll follow you there, into the dark
The dark is my lover, I caress it’s shadowy folds.
Come, join me in the midnight blackness
It soothes the brightness of truth
Thick blindness holds us tight
Our fears close but held at bay
Cold, our emotions now irrelevant
I‘ll follow you there, into the dark
Where lie my deepest fantasies
Lay down your fear my sweet woman
Take my misty promises into the wildness
Of the unknown, unfeeling, and unbelievable
Provoking them to relinquish their hidden treasure
as I follow you there, into the dark 

Also published in Broowaha
First published in Opinions Of Eye
02012012

The Wind – Fellowship of the wind –

“It’s the questions we can’t answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he’ll look for his own answers.”

 

I could feel the strength of the wind.
Fresh, dark, mystical wind.
On the shadowed side of the steep mountains,
clouds hovering, the wind teasing,
making smoke tails.
Strange feeling, exhilarating yet,
peaceful, almost entrancing,
the wind in my hair.
Smells, fresh, moist, sounds of a tree,
a falling comrade in the green forest,
all carried by the wind.
How is it that I fit in this mystery?
How is it I’m taken by this wind?
Like a seed carried away from my past,
by an ever present but constantly changing wind,
Dropping me pleasantly down
to finish my here and now.
Brother wind and I take flight.



Also published in Broowaha
First published in Opinions Of Eye
10022011

The Great Adventure – Part 1 –

“The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.” ― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild
youngdreamerlove
The trip began by assembling simple items that would benefit a grand adventure in the wild forests of unknown. A can opener, lighters, a couple of pocket knifes, cans of beans we surreptitiously obtained from mom’s cupboard, the obligatory camouflage jackets and pants, and of course a machetes to hack our way through the grass and brush. We made the mile trip to the wooded point right on the cliff above a shallow gulch. Pine trees formed a tidy circle around a clearing and their needles made a nice bed. The sound of wind blowing through these made an eerie sound, especially for boys like us at the ripe age of 14 and 15. Many long days were spent filled with exciting adventures into this government reserve, which by the way, we weren’t supposed to be in, which added to our sense of danger that all boys crave to some extent.
Climbing through the 8 foot chain link fence that surrounded it, we pushed our way through the tall grasses and crossed a couple of dirt roads worn with the convoys of jeeps, tanks, and supply trucks. The last obstacle we clambered across was a double row of razor wire that lined the fields. We knew all the paths and shortcuts here and had already squashed this down and laid branches over it to tip toe on. Finding things while we hiked was an awesome thrill. The biggest finds were items lost or left behind by the troops, MRE’s being the supreme score, followed by empty ammo bags that clipped on to belts, and shell casings, with which we filled our little bags and bringing a smile that only being incredibly stupid and getting away with it can bring to the little men we were.
Reaching the clearing, we built our rough lean-to and found sticks to build a fire. We didn’t understand that if you’re not supposed to be there, lighting a fire on the edge of cliff that overlooks much of the land around it, is not a good idea. But in our exuberance, we lit our little fire and boiled some water to add to a spaghetti MRE I found and heat the beans we stole from Mom. Night came soon and we settled in under our shelter and played with the fire, watching the sparks swirl and find their way up to the star filled sky. Our spot was lit up to the edge of clearing showing the trees and brush around us, beyond that it was pitch black and made the more so by gazing into the fire before we looked out toward the dark. The evening this far was uneventful and our stay in this forbidden zone an apparent success.
Suddenly, right behind our lean-to, a loud snap of branches shot through the night and right up our young spines. Hairs on end, we stumbled forward in a blind panic and grabbed the machete and large walking stick, hewn in boredom just moments before. Standing back to back, gazing at what we couldn’t see, our eyes struggled to make out any images, our ears keen to the slightest twitch of grass. Was it an animal? Or worse, the Military Police? The MP’s were more trouble but we out ran them several times because of our knowledge of the nook and crannies and subtle shortcuts and paths, but, the animals were a big problem. The paths we found were theirs and running wasn’t a good idea. We whispered back and forth having seconds to decide what to do and like most options presented to those caught, running like hell seemed to be the best way out. We sprung through the trees and bounced through the razor wire like an Olympic hurdler fueled by adrenalin and youthful agility. Hearing more snaps and bushes shaking supercharged our escape and made the dark obstacle course easy. Soon the mile was behind us and we dove through the fence finding our way home. We collapsed in excited jubilation with our hearts pounding out 200 beats a minute. The escape was pulled off without a hitch and our confidence grew to heights that can only be reached by imagination. This was a success, however there where things in life that wouldn’t be so easily overcome and these tests waited for us with hungry anticipation.
First published in Opinions Of Eye

None Shall Escape –

“There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, ‘There now, hang on, you’ll get over it.’ Sadness is more or less like a head cold- with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.”
 – Barbara Kingsolver, The Bean Trees

s-a-e-c-u-l-u-m

This is no ordinary little house, in a dark wooded lot, with a long curving driveway. Quintessential in time, the smell of rotten leaves, moldy dead trees, and moss create an invitation likely to instill fear. Leaves and draping parasitic vines serve to block out the intrusion of light. Things crawl and slither, poisonous things with teeth naturally sharp to penetrate the hood of protection. A damp chill wraps up the weary and pulls them to the coldness of the nether world. Light mists drift low to the ground, creeping with ethereal madness. Large things, nightmares, snap twigs and disappear with startling proficiency. These all have conspired to hide escape and draw the fearful soul deeper and deeper, sliding down the viscous sides of mortality’s flowers in a one way trip. The house is ancient in design, hundreds of years ago the brick and mortar were set and stony copper gargoyles put here to observe the folly of one gone mad. The door’s misleading, it’s a lure, pulling and tugging to get it’s prey close, crushing hopes with its efficacious skill of holding fast against panicked desperation. Fists pound against it creating unheard echos and with beastly strength the spell is transferred from spirit to flesh. Vibrant greens are subdued to the gray and black of lands beyond. The colors are smudged by an errant creator attempting to dismiss this aberration. Bones of lost hope litter the exposed roots and walkways, little roads to nowhere showing tracks of the worst going in circles. This is the notorious lair of depression, many will enter, none shall escape.

Also published in Broowaha
Also published in Opinionsofeye.com

No Fear –

“Bran thought about it. ‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’
‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ his father told him.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones 
Noctturnalromance

 

Walking towards the house, I just finished spending another evening with my church youth group. On the way something sinister stirred in the shadows. No sound, just glimpses of dark figures, darker than black, accompanied by a deep foreboding fear. Forcing myself along the path, all my nerves on end, I scramble to find a weapon worthy of this opponent. My fists were no match, guns likewise. I needed something without form to battle the unseen opponent. Words, that will do, they have no shape and find you even when your hiding. I’ve got the weapon, now which words? The pastors taught me words exist that are extraordinary, having more weight and value than common words, words that were in themselves different. The most powerful of these are the words that looked ordinary, but are changed by my belief about the source and effectiveness of them, i.e. they gained value in this battle by virtue of the faith I placed in them. It wasn’t that faith did it, because I had to actually use the words, but it was faith that gave them the edge to cut the dark. I read this somewhere, “You light a lamp for me. The Lord, my God, lights up my darkness.” Repeating this I tried to understand how to fight the fight that is not fought with fists but with belief. I believed that Big Daddy (that’s what I called God) let me find those words as advice. Fear has torment and I was always afraid, so this whole thing was a training ground to overcome fear and learn how to fight what is called by others as “the good fight”. The victory to press past this feeling and not turn around and run, was not a gallant one at all, it was horribly clumsy and vacillated between wanting to run and wanting to face this fear. All said and done, I made it through, I didn’t die and I learned a valuable lesson that equipped me for the rest of the craziness called my life.
Also published in Opinionsofeye.com