Please don't fall now, my love, your light is my life.

There is something both 
glorious 
and adulterous about basking 
in the warm glow of a lamp you know 
cannot stay lit for 
long. The light is so warm and 
inviting, it fills you with hope, it 
heats your body in a cool 
world and 
makes it possible to breathe again. 
Deep, heavy breaths of 
being content. 
You could stay here
forever. But
you know that no matter
how warm or steady the 
light is, the lamp post will
not stand forever. Winds will
scar it, rain will cause it to 
rust. You can love that lamp post 
with every cell of your body
every pull of your soul
but you cannot 
hold the lamp post up.
And someday it 
will fall.
And when it does you'll be there underneath it
burned by the hot oil 
scarred by the shards of glass and 
crushed under the weight of it.
Under the weight of your love
fallen on top of you and burned
to bits. 
You can love the light, the heat, the glow, the post.
But you cannot keep it standing. You
can only pray that it's you who falls first
so that you aren't there to feel the fall,
only to cushion your love with a
dead empty body and a warm
happy soul.  

Magic

I think all little girls dream of living in a castle, it is in our blood. We love to pretend we could be worth the world to someone.
Life comes along and tries to teach us otherwise, and the adult in us believes it must be true. We cannot all be a princess. We cannot all rule the world. There is no magic. Only life.
If not magic, what then, is life?
Some people might argue that life is a job and school and paying bills. But that is not life, that is merely what it takes to maintain a "normal" society life. Life is the desire to live, to feel the air in your lungs and the blood in your veins and rejoice in their vital movements. Life is to love and to give, to learn and to grow. It is making mistakes but getting up again, and finding, within our everyday life, what it takes to make it worth living. That is the magic.

What is life without magic? There is no life without magic.

To be more me....

Isn't is astonishing, how in the midst of doing everything we love, we can lose ourselves.....and how sometimes it takes something we hate, an action we can't stand to see accomplished...to make us realize how unhappy we were being happy?
                 Thank you for teaching me that. I am back where I need to be now, all thanks to stranger who stopped me in my tracks of being what I hate, and helped be remember who I am.


                                          Sincerely,
                              Nobody's Wife, but My Own Someone

An old teacher.

He stood against the wall; large bricks painted off white.
He glanced down awkwardly at his note cards, often.
He usually commands a classroom, but today
He stands nervously in front of a student-held camera.
His brow sweats.
His face cracks into the form of a smile.
His lips move,
He speaks of adventures and dreams.
He tells us to never give up.
He says we can do it.
But his eyes;
His eyes block miserably the painful confession that
He is a man who never found
His dream.

What a Worrisome Wednesday

Sitting in the classroom, just minding my own business, I have a lot to do. The sounds of a piano waft down from amidst the rhythmic strums of a bass and staccato melody of a cello. I try to focus on my task. But the piano's lively song pulls at the corners of my mind and I find myself involuntarily drifting into the music. Dancing on colorful melodies laid against a vast darkness, I try in vain to keep my heart out of it, enjoying the moment just the same. Life so dark, music so light; the notes seem to bounce off the walls and sky, amplified by their pure and joyful intent. Stepping and twirling among themselves; little black dots that are girls and boys; the page comes to life. But there is no page; this tune is new and pure--and we, the virgin audience. Music so badly needed, fulfilling the secret need of every person within its sound.

The pianist's eyes betray his passion and I am unable to keep from smiling.

In defense, I turn back to my work, drowning out the music with a screaming rant deep inside the rooms of my mind. Darn that pianist.