Tag Archives: Reality

Shadows in the myst

Lightening Streaks across the horizon peeling back the colors of darkness.

Reflections reveal the surface of the lake is real, and it holds colors hostage in its dark depths while secretly making love to shadows.

It’s the thunder that awakens or distracts our senses to our fears, light or sound; the storm is just a word.

The crack of air tears a second of reality open for all to hear, but no one listens, they remember or fear shadows in the wind.

We live in a world of surfaces. Colors and textures dominating our landscape with stolid waves of dirt undulating still, as our feet move through the valleys and peaks carrying thoughts like embers in a pouch.

Lightening reveals a glimpse of chalk painted figures dancing with smoke around orange shards of warmth. The storm is their power.

To them there are no forces of nature, only the power of nature to be harnessed and rode through the shadows of life. No width, depth, or breadth to be concerned with, not even time can catch the mind on fire.

The earth moves in mysterious places open for all to see. This is how the still mind travels and the racing mind runs in circles searching for its peace. The shadows between the two dance with lighting to the sound of thunder surrounded by surfaces like a prism and in between each color the shadow sits silently wondering how they can’t see they’re one.

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Randomness

My mind lazily stares at the reflection of the door in the rainwater collecting on the sidewalk. I struggle with which door to open, which door to walk through for the rest of my life. Both have become surreal and the glimmer of hope in my reflection is as real as the sadness behind the pains encased in reality.

In the end choice was an illusion, a weigh station to a truth I already knew. Home is an illusion like the mind. It doesn’t have matter like a house or brain, of which both will eventually collapse. And so it is, choice, the stairway to somewhere, always leads me on.

So is life an illusion brought to life in the reflection of inconsequential notions of reality. Are hope, faith, and prayer the home of truth, reality, and the work that brings shining moments. We aren’t meant to know, only care enough to try.

Does it all matter, probably not, but if you don’t care, it’s not worth living. The reflection means no more than the reality and that’s not a crossroad, it’s a void. A place where nothing has color or tears to dry. A place where death lives and life passes on.

Everything has meaning, has worth if we care. Reality pushed the boundary of sanity at times. So hold onto your reflections with the understanding that life does matter, as do the illusions that give it measure. When this gets twisted you’re no longer real.

U.S.S. Implosion

The ship lists; the starboard side judges the port with fate, while the port side glares down with contempt and favor. Fore and aft are no longer considered as waves lap at the feet of passengers. Not knowledgable enough to assist, they chatter and regurgitate what deck hands think they know.
The Captain looks to his Lieutenants with hope. Hope that they knew more than how to appease guilded sleeves. Hope that they would glance below and feel something besides the power of privilege. Hope that the reality of the ocean spray would awaken their souls.
Below deck the rabble rouses to their station. Grumbling at the years of toil. It was fine when they had theirs and it mattered not that fools gold and real gold were just a matter of reality both purchased this moment.
When the ship sails there’s hope and dreams. When the ship docks there’s anticipation and wonder. Alas, when the ship sinks there’s realization. Realization that everything sinks, all cloth gets wet, and lungs fill at the same rate no matter the lineage.
Now the playing field is even. This is a dangerous moment. A moment where all that matters is within you. The will to live or die for yourself or something greater. Prayers won’t reach heaven before you’re gurgling salt water and prayers, time has becomes a noose.
The spectrum of human emotion and behavior play out below the Captains Mast as he loses faith in humanity and goes down with his ship and dignity, but go down he will, just like the porter in the bowels of the ship.
The scrim of civility dissipates with a reality that comforts some and destroys others. True colors replace national colors and whip in the wind. No place to hide before deaths grasp. Running within anarchy serves the purpose. Everything is futile but breath and thought.
So here we are in rougher seas in a ship that’s rolling with the sea rather than on it. There is no Captain, no dignity, no order. Humanities become a whirlwind of ignorance within green seas. No more “man overboard!”, it’s every man for himself.
The difference today is the rabble is no longer satisfied with waiting silently below for orders. They know there’s no real captain, just a man with a uniform that sinks at the same rate as their tattered rags. They know because knowledge is the currency of the day, understanding is a myth. Truth is a creation, and lies are tools of the trade.
These times have came before and passed. Many ships lay full of treasures to blind future generations of pirates. There are stories of victories over the sea that are humbly recorded and hesitantly retold, because the understanding that reality has layers that order maintains hinges on knowledge that hides the truth of humanity.

Sanity as a myth

Twisted realities spin around my mind leaving my soul to wander in search of sanity. I know we’re not alone in our grief and confusion, but it seems spirits don’t communicate with words.

Words don’t unite or divide us like friendships aren’t about hugs and handshakes. It’s sentiment that knows no boundaries between space and time. What we share our spirits have carried across time, through space, without a sound.

It’s the whisper we can’t hear that gets our attention. Knowing has no real value. Feeling is the essence of humanity. Our minds have become lazy over time and just want to dichotomize the world into verbal confusion.

Troubled souls travel inside broken vessels looking for kindred spirits. Our souls reside within our hearts while our spirits wander for peace. All the while we open our minds to distorted spaces furnished with illusion.

One day my spirit will make it back to my soul and nestle safely in my brain where we will Rest In Peace. Until then ill Rest In Distortion holding onto truth like a buoy in the expanses of an ocean.

Astray

Im divided by time
Behind cognizant realms
From before or after spaces

I can’t express the difference
Of what I know to be true
Or what I believe to be here

It becomes an enigma
Looming ahead of reality
As an indescribable inevitability

The connection is separate
And never realized
As events unfold in spaces closed

I know it’s coming, but not what it is
I feel is knowledge not yet realized
Ahead of actions not yet performed

Perception, deja vu, or premonition
Either way it’s never real
Till your taking your last breath

So dream on in peace
And fear reality for what it is
As your fantasies lead you astray