Waiting

I sit in the closed room in the middle of spring but do not feel shut out because the painted murals inspire that same otherwise dormant emotion when a brick crashes through the stained glass that gilded my prison with it's verigated, now shattered glass, I see a heap of sparkle that was a bird in flight, no longer able to imagine the world as it might be reality floods my senses shouting "mourn not, for this bird never flew, never knew of the bright sun or rain."
But, I will not forgive the hand that tossed the brick as I weep over hope now lost. Sunshine breaks through the now broken art revealing a world of science and swirling gases it is called the sun a voice informs me as I wonder at what is, not sure how this all effects me. And who is the father? for all things beget and all must have somehow been conceived. No. Sun, not son, and no one quite knows how it came to be.  And the only pushy force now is my own curiosity. Trying to make it's way to my lips to ask...

True stories

Quite often great story tellers publicly recognize that true stories are much better than the mythical universes created by their mind, that makes a lot of sense actually, but I started to think about how hard it would be to live a story worthy life. Personally, the reason I prefer true stories is that I can trust the ending which I already professed that the good guy always wins, but just maybe the story we want to tell hasn't ended yet, they all end positively.

But, back to the speculative part. I was noticing how most of my favorite true stories are both positive and full of very difficult trials. It occurred to me that I might be living as are we all, one of the best stories ever and so I want to start telling my story, which will be true except for the fictional ending, not to say the actual ending will not be as uplifting, but I hope to finish the story before my life.

Time to write a book

I need to write about my Christmas so that others can know and feel the joy.

Happiness of Christmas is not something we trade our money for. It seems that the things that make us happy come from money, but that is because we have seen things mainly from a man's perspective, and they trade their work for money, so in a sense they use their money to purchase happiness.

Around Christmas 2013, just now published...

Kids always nag their parents for things and it so happens that my daughter always asks for the most expensive things, I want to write a poem that uses imagery to compare her requests to me to my request to God, only difference is that he has the power to grant it, and I do not give a deadline. Still the main focus needs to be the most precious and expensive things are wanted and I am no different than her in what I want. At least I am able to admit that I want it now.I see no reason why it will not be mine, someday. unles I need to set a deadline incase I ought to move on. I do not want to become a waiter (one who waits) or put my eggs in one basket. I did that before, and counted on one things entirely, but it was not the best thing, nor the thing that would help me reach my potential.

Partial children's story

A pitiful flower has bloomed and sees it's likeness in a neat little pot without thinking it rushes to join. It abandons the rocky terrain where it was a lonely flower among piles of rock. At first it is so happy to be with other flowers that it fails to notice the climate or soil, but upon so doing is so extremely happy and thrives and as it grows it realizes that it was far less than it's potential and realizes that given a chance to bloom in such conditions things would have been so different. The flower actually has only basic similarities with the much weaker blooms and it longs stupidly to go back to its. Accustomed environment.

Thoughts that belong together

"Where are you going?", he asked fully expecting a foolish answer.
"Just looking for the lost socks. It just struck me that in the law of conservation of Socks they cannot disappear so replacing them is silly. I decided to not put of their discovery one more minute. Who knows what else I may find..."

"They say the last place you look is where you'll find things."

"Well, duh. Why on earth would you keep looking after a thing has been found?

"Maybe you will find your (trails off)..." And he already regrets allowing the thought to cross his mind let alone his lips.

"What?"

"Darling, you know that I love you. I just want you to be happy again."

"And I suppose that wish would be met by realizing all of the wonderful things you do because you consider me oblivious to them."

"Please, don't get so huffy

Ok, here goes!

I wanted to write in permanent ink so that the words will not ever fade away.
Like a permanent eye liner that won't run when tears flow from expressing how I feel.
Maybe, I always loved you, and even if I am just one, I was always yours and it will likely be the same as is every other world.
Many things change, but this time I took a greater wager that we would end up working on that same project that we always have.
It won't be haloween forever, and the masks will come off to reveal who we really were.
It is no wonder I never had a thought that did not include you.
Different mothers same dad ofcourse we are family, adopted or not it does not matter. Even Leia loved Luke, and it sure makes a great story for a reason.