Tag Archives: consciousness

Tense Moments

Life is relentless waves of now
Discarded as memories
Or hopes that tomorrow
Will reveal new stories

Live in the moment they say
Finding myself here
Blinded by yesterday
And hopes far or near

You can never go back
As I remember it’s today
And the past is tattooed
In every word I dream or say

Tomorrow is a sunset playing
With the moons patience
While I travel along the horizon
Searching for another chance

I walk through all three tenses
Holding yesterday and tomorrow
Creating now in a moment
Of joy and sorrow

I’m bound by the future
And free of the past
Hoping to hold now
And make forever last

We can’t escape our past.
Or leave tomorrow behind
So now is not the time
Or a single moment to find

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Night Sweats

I dream long nights away to other fortunes. Like the sweat from arduous journeys; the scenes twist my fears and desires into macabre premises. Relentlessly I forge ahead through lucid expressions of guilt or joy painting memories from reality. Awakening between here and there leaves me rigid within the breath of now.

It’s here I’m an artist. I paint without brushes, write with my thoughts, or make love with my mind satisfying the worlds desire to consume me. This is a battle in a war that has waged within my souls since dreams were born.

I’m no warrior or epic lover conquering my ego, more of an observer of possibilities yet realized. Here, in the safety of the subconscious I see the world through my eyes. No filters to color people or anoint my belief. Here I’m human and true to something beyond reality.

Like the child stoically looking through the rear window of a car as it slowly drives through the fog of gray leaving something behind that will never be found, I’m outside of myself, divorced from the nature of my silence by layers of understanding.

These are silent films. Noise is expressed through colorful scenes and emotions. I know the colors that represent the set, but I’m smart enough to leave that pallet on the shelf, so as not to hinder the meanings I want myself to feel. Color gets in the way of feeling the meanings, like emotions mask the lovers affair with herself.

Dreamers speak of awakenings as if the morning won’t return to day and put to rest the nights toil. We live in an awakening of denial that all we see, all we feel, our entire existence is nothing more than an awakening to self; we always know.

In the end we are a dream. We are a history. Most importantly we are here as a possibility. The most import part of that possibility isn’t food, family, or fortunes. The most important part of that possibility is shaped by those hours spent in another reality realizing fears or conjuring desires that shape tomorrow behind the scrim of now. It’s here monsters and miracles share meanings and myths.

Wind

I close my eyes riding the wind through the tenses of my life. Filtered images fly through the dark illuminating scenes through the scent of memory and hope.

I know not where the wind will take me, nor the speed, for there’s a world of difference between the breeze and the gale, but they’re mine none the less.

The sounds of my past aren’t audible. They come through experiences that thunder or whisper to my soul. Interrupted only by the decibels of reality rumbling across my conscientious. The light rain on the tin roof has more color in mind than in my world.

It’s like the sound of rubber rolling on wet asphalt triggers a silence that brings a colorful emotion that’s silent, but heard. Felt in that separate place between memory and hope.

I can’t live here in this darkness full of light, sound, and smells. I can’t push the world far enough away. I can close my eyes and smile, or cry for dreams long past, or hopes that’ve died. Either way the beauty isn’t lost, it’s in me.

Making sense

I can touch with my spirit. My spiritual hand wisps across consciousness like smoke from a fire.

My minds eye stares through the physical realm as you begin to evanesce and intentions older than time reveal the aurora within.

I hear the tears of history raining down on barren fields crying out for an ocean of love within the peace of a raindrop flooding humanity.

I’ve tasted your world and it’s plastic attempts at recreating nature. It’s just texture to chew on while the mind reflects on the succulent joy of flesh and bone, bark and sap, mixed with blood and air to replenish the earth.

My sense of smell warns me the path of men is no place for a man and within mankind there is ignorance. It’s the man, not men, who stand alone with the wind in their face who stoically avoid the fetid intentions of the pack gone rogue.

I think, therefore I am is an eternal beacon to remind us to make sense, use sense, and be sense within a world gone mad. Ancient winds remind us we can touch without hands, see without eyes , and taste without our mouth. We can hear the world without ears and smell death without flared nostrils. The world is within us, all we have to make sense to feel it.

One in a billion

Keep your mind open its too beautiful to close. There’s a paradise within your thoughts that kiss the universe with sweetness. The world will try to put up walls to your happiness, don’t withdraw towards the darkness, it’s cold out there.

I’ve traveled through those dark moments cold and lonely. I would close my eyes and the sun had no warmth, like lights in an office filled with fear. Blindly I stumbled forward towards any measure of warmth, but when I opened my eyes it was just dank and dark.

Those places aren’t real, the people are pale and withdrawn for fear of the light. Ignorance knows no bounds, but hides an army in shadowed corners. Don’t settle, boldly walk out into the light and absorb your inheritance with a glimmering smile, you are one of the billion!

I don’t want to be burnt by the light of thought, but illuminated by the source that forces billions of beams to intertwine towards warmth for every space it touches. Even the residue of my thoughts can reach dark places for others to crawl away.

My mind is open to you and us as a universe. My thoughts revolve around the light of hope, and my heart sends a pulse around the world seeking connections stronger than a summer breeze. The seasons of my life are universal.

My consciousness is an aurora undulating with every molecule of existence. I can’t separate my fears from your hopes, my dreams from your reality. Together they’ll find a way like the wind leaves a calm quiet day of possibilities.