Tag Archives: memories

Rhythm of the Storm

Thunder on a tin roof cancels out the patter of thick raindrops beating a content rhythm. The staccato roll of memories fill my heart with a thud. Memories of you reverberate with us.

Lightening strikes as a glimpse into yesterday through a half empty bourbon bottle. Smoke drifts lazily towards a creaking ceiling fan wobbling to it own rhythm. Tomorrow doesn’t exist and now fades with each flash of lightening, leaving darkness in its wake.

Lost, me and the world, just staring into the distance entranced in times long faded into the myst. Here becomes there and now becomes then as I drift to the rhythm of memories drumming to the beat of the storm.

Soon the rain stops and the winds carry us away to distant horizons. Drops of us break free and fall to the earth silently. We are no longer a force. The thunder rumbles in distant memories as the lightening exposes the horizon for glimpses of maybe.

Then silence screams and the bourbon swishes within the bottle bringing sleep, rest for the lonely. I drift in and out of consciousness like I did love. Then I realize I’ve nothing left to fear but dreams.



Dust dances through the attic within shards of light slowly passing time along well worn planks. It’s magic they seek in the eyes of the beholder. They have no fairies or ghosts without the fertile or feeble minds staring in wonder.

Creeks and whistles play staccato games with swaying trees just beyond the pain. But this is a space of remembrance. A place where memories are free to roam through cob webs and yellowed paper.

Slowly I run my hand along wooden chests and metal straps. My mind travels along colorless photos of perfectly groomed alabaster faces wearing oversized suits and cinched dresses. I wonder how long it took these memories to arrive in my hands, in my mind, are they even mine.

I smell the struggle to open these boxes of yesterday. Places and moments are separate in the still morning light. Every box opens with a sigh and closes with a question. Is this real, was that then, or is this some cruel reminder of how distorted time really is. Minutes and hours are easy. Days and nights are bearable because tomorrow still exists. Past this yellow fades white, laughter sounds distant, and feeling is a remembrance or dream.

But I have what’s left of my memories in a box, that’s fortunate. I have captured time, or has it captured me, sometimes I wonder. What my hands can’t grasp my mind helps along. As the dust dances on in the light of a new day I’ll become the memory. A blessing and the curse of a life long lived.

Universal Guardian

Miles and minutes are the twins of time and space. The distance they wedge between our bodies can’t deceive the space between our spirits, that is the illusion.

It’s out there, we’re out there everywhere
Not a single space unoccupied
And all we see is air, because memory can be the curtain of fools

Within each of us are the collective echoes of all that is, it has to be denied to walk with now. This battle for the seed, the soul, is guarded by the spirit of mankind, which knows no time or space, it’s infinite and eternal.

Remembering can be a function or reaction. The space between the two is where the spirit lives. Like a sentry guarding a tomb it stands silently, eternally vigilant walking unseen, yet reverberating within us. Our soul can be stolen, but our spirit belongs to the universe, waiting for nothing.

Walk with your heart wide open to the possibility that biology is a collection of historical facts, lineage is an evolutionary illusion, the spirit is where time and space have no quarter. It knows no boundaries, because you thought.

Shadow Walls

I feel the heat, and the air is sweltering with memories. invisible memories that steal your eyes from the moment.

Memories of feelings, not places course through our blood stream as a legacy of trust. A universal landscape of feelings and emotions that feed my soul. Along the landscape of my mind I see pictures of you wrapped in ancient feelings of love and fear shared hundreds of thousands of years over time.

This primitive version of us where emotions overlapped each other with every new scent on the mind. Now we’re distracted, irritated, or elated with the same circumstances we’ve always faced. Memories don’t live in dark shadows with garbled noises. They scream louder with each degree and clearer with every realization that time isn’t always an eraser, it is a recorder as well.

Handed down through the millennium with a legacy of trust, emotions run deep and true to life, we’re emotionally gifted with reactions to life’s challenges. These aren’t tools for the industrious, there digits in the fists of mankind.

Trust your instincts, their part of us all and the walls we put up between sanity and desire only serve to blind us to a future of bliss. Trust that those who have passed over before us wonder our horizons carrying our emotions like myst in the mornings dew.

We ‘re never alone in this world. We just consciously choose to put up walls across a beautiful landscape that we can breathe in and walk forward into the sunlit tomorrow. So open your heart and eyes to the past and carry it along the day looking to tomorrow knowing that you carry more than a tear, you carry a legacy of emotion that is beautiful and purposeful. Tear down the walls.