Miserere....

I've discovered that as these past days have come and gone, I laugh less and less...my companion at nights isn't the tired yet sated "end of day" feeling...rather it is an anxious restlessness, an acute frustration and angst...and it attacks right at my core in ways I cannot begin to understand let alone communicate. It seems every bit of headway I make is lost and I am rolled right back to the bottom of the hill to start all over again...Its a broken feeling...like my spirit is slowly dying, and I am going through the motions of a life I have ordered to be on autopilot by sheer volume of activity...I press on...with all that makes my dark cloud hang that much lower...

The Sharing and Navigating of our "Personal Darknesses"

Today's emotion cannot be processed, user is tired and quite annoyed with the world at the moment, but will explore their feelings...Eventually

       A friend of mine was sharing some difficulty they faced going through a bad breakup...the hardest part for them was not simply that they weren't over the person...it was the spaces that they shared with them...he referred to his personal space as his darkness...heartbroken, he says he now has no peace because he made "my" (his) darkness "our" (their) darkness...and it got me thinking (of course, AFTER we talked and he was comforted while we ate and laughed) of personal space and our own each of us "Darkness", the forms they take and the effect they have on us...as well as the gravity of what happens when we share these things.
     I can relate and I am sure we all can, with the reality of each of us having personal "darkness", whether it take the form of a place, activity, object or an amalgam or several of the former; it is this "thing/group of things" which "centres" us, makes us able to survive the world, to face the madness around us with relative calm and bravery. For me the primary one of my seemingly numerous is the solace of reading alone at home, for you doubtless it will be otherwise. I now imagine how much it takes many of us to share this personal space with someone...here I do not mean "tell" someone about it, though it my take that form as well...but to have them engage in it with you or even be present while you enact this process (be it so) . this is tantamount to letting them have an unfettered view of your essence, often see directly into your soul (hmm, feels like over-romanticism? maybe, maybe not), and this delicate moment is one that can make you or infinitely break you (and to the rare few, it will not phase you, and in that instance, was it really ever that important to you?)...now imagine that person/those persons disregarding the gravity of being "let in" or even worse know the importance and ignore it in a fit of neglect, anger, antipathy or just.plain.stupid.? if you're like me or my friend, your response is unease or despair, a gloominess or heaviness fills you at the thought of the activity/thing now, often so much so that it makes you avoid it altogether. others however, lash out, they make the person (or often everyone-the rest of the world) pay for this crime, this invasion and infringement...I warn us all to not take the communion of  private worlds lightly; yes we are human and there will be times we "mess up" but we should as much as possible be vigilant, because we never know when in our moments of humanity we may damage a soul beyond recognition and often beyond repair

A little nostalgia

He sits by the window, and stares out onto the sweeping lawns, his house an island in the lush and perfectly manicured expanse of green, waves of crimson and pink breaking at the front and back porches. in his hand he fingers a ring absently. it is an intricately decorated ring, a golden band on which is overlaid a silver rose, its leaves diamonds encrusted within the gold band. A tear falls as he remembers the small of fresh pudding, the air thick with the scent of baking, and the atmosphere full of the warmth that had nothing to do with the oven and all to do with the love so tangible as to incite pinpricks of Goosebumps and stir a contented excitement to overcome anyone within the house's confines...

Untitled...

As I stand before you,

the spindly glass of my world trembling

facade of stone shaken...

I reach to you-

then see the recoil-

that instant of rejection

that green tint

of an aura's retreat

and you maintain the distance

and why not?

after all, clearly its my fault

nothing of me

naught of me at all

well...

I'll stay in my corner

til my corner evaporates

with the morning sun

night's crimson death...

-Carl-Anthony

oh dream how sweet....too sweet...Too Bittersweet...

And it is, that while your soul ascended on the wings of a life...a life too short,too horridly short and frayed, but nonetheless...a life lived adirably, songs were sung in your honour, words spoken in your praise...and the only solace of this is that in life you were reminded daily that you are one of the most amazing, gifted, eloquent, patient, understanding and brilliant young lady I had the highest honour of calling friend

I cant say it...

I sit here and I remember a fleeting quote I had come across...and cry as I remember why it is that I thought of it when I sat applying stage face for a show...

“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason."

-Ernest Hemingway

I attach a picture I had begun t think of as the artist at her most vulnerable yet her most ecstatic...when sharing her soul through her art