A girl asks a boy to offer an explanation for the things he did and some he still does. She says the boy doesn’t have to answer and he remains silent considering whether he wishes to speak via text or in person.
There is electricity in the sky and sometimes that same electricity accompanies them in person so he wonders which mode is best.
Will one medium provide greater and deeper understanding than the other and does it matter.
For if heart and head agree upon situation there is no doubt that either fashion shall suffice because they can and shall be heard.
She who once yelled “I see through you” knows he sees through too. There is an open path between, an ethereal string tied to two cans.
Still he holds back, making it clear he will choose to speak in more detail at a more appropriate time. For now he uses the words of the poets to address certain things, such as age and time.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Ulysses-Alfred, Lord Tennyson
What Do You Hear?
If I told you I heard and saw things you would ask what I heard and saw. Perhaps I would say it was something like this or maybe this or perhaps not.
I have to hit the gym in a few, have to check some emails, plan for tomorrow and do a million other things that are tearing me away from this place.
This place where my fingers want to roam across the keyboard and softly stroke them into coming forth in a massive burst of energy that leaves you exhausted and smiling because of the story it would tell.
Could be two hands or two fingers or no fingers at all.
Because the energy is flowing and the magic from the blood moon still runs through the evening skies.
Instead of drawing it down and channeling it through these fingers onto this page I’ll pull it into me and use it for other purposes.
There are weights that need to be thrown up and down and treadmills that are desperate to come to life under my feet.
A man on the verge of 50 doesn’t have time to ignore such things, no matter how many people say he doesn’t look like he is old enough to be a particular age.
Sometimes you stare into the abyss and dare it to snatch your soul and sometimes you say fuck it and ride into Hades domain and prove that Charon, Cereberus and the rest dare not challenge you…at least not for this one moment in time.
So we’re are running into the fire with the intent and purpose to go as far and as deep as we can before we are forced to pull out.
It is a modern day charge of the light brigade.
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