Monday, October 30, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Remnants
what are we placing our happiness on?
we place it on stools that lift us higher and heels that make us taller.
deposit our insecurities in things that may return to us more than the fumbling identity we lunge at with open hands. It works.
It works because we can feel the return. We can throw our hands in the air and let pieces of what we're striving for move through our fingers. It's like the boy who runs around the shore and relishes in finally feeling an ocean mist brush his face; how different from the dry air that sucks his breath away.
As if you got up too fast, the world begins to shake, you're losing your balance and you begin to search and feel for the ground under you. It must be your stool.
Don't blame the stool, stand up.
Stand up, but don't blame your heels. You're still standing on them, and they didn't break. Sit back down, the stool is still holding up your body frame. You feel the world go up again, leaving you in your ditch again, forgotten. The floor beneath you is sinking and tommorow you think you'll invest in a higher, stable slab of ground.
All for the ocean mist to speak to our lonely pale cheeks. All for the remants of what we've been offered.
So before tommorow begins, I tell you:
The ocean is yours.
Tommorow you may stand on the ocean floor with your head above the waters.
we place it on stools that lift us higher and heels that make us taller.
deposit our insecurities in things that may return to us more than the fumbling identity we lunge at with open hands. It works.
It works because we can feel the return. We can throw our hands in the air and let pieces of what we're striving for move through our fingers. It's like the boy who runs around the shore and relishes in finally feeling an ocean mist brush his face; how different from the dry air that sucks his breath away.
As if you got up too fast, the world begins to shake, you're losing your balance and you begin to search and feel for the ground under you. It must be your stool.
Don't blame the stool, stand up.
Stand up, but don't blame your heels. You're still standing on them, and they didn't break. Sit back down, the stool is still holding up your body frame. You feel the world go up again, leaving you in your ditch again, forgotten. The floor beneath you is sinking and tommorow you think you'll invest in a higher, stable slab of ground.
All for the ocean mist to speak to our lonely pale cheeks. All for the remants of what we've been offered.
So before tommorow begins, I tell you:
The ocean is yours.
Tommorow you may stand on the ocean floor with your head above the waters.
Monday, October 23, 2006
the first
this is the first.
mumbo jumbo.
broken, we attempt to live standing straight. striving for dignity and name, while casting humility away with the rest of the bait. looking to catch the bigger fish, we find ourselves in a nylon-tangled mess. plucking our fingers into the tangled string, hoping to create some harmony for the time being. so that once again we may cast away humility as our bait, down deep into the ocean, because there lie the bigger fish.
So on the jettison, we sit as the waves whisper about lost humility. about men who cast humility and had their lines snapped, to walk back home with nothing to show.
humility should bait us, but we let pride anchor us. yet, like all men, in the end, we learn the value of humility. and most learn to cast it for themselves. only a few men are baited.
mumbo jumbo.
broken, we attempt to live standing straight. striving for dignity and name, while casting humility away with the rest of the bait. looking to catch the bigger fish, we find ourselves in a nylon-tangled mess. plucking our fingers into the tangled string, hoping to create some harmony for the time being. so that once again we may cast away humility as our bait, down deep into the ocean, because there lie the bigger fish.
So on the jettison, we sit as the waves whisper about lost humility. about men who cast humility and had their lines snapped, to walk back home with nothing to show.
humility should bait us, but we let pride anchor us. yet, like all men, in the end, we learn the value of humility. and most learn to cast it for themselves. only a few men are baited.
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