Learning to LiveI sit in my shell, like water in a bowl, placid and unmoving, content to remain here for all eternity. The wind tugs at my hair and my clothes; sounds strain to catch my ear, but I remain undisturbed. They cannot reach me here, deep in this place between wakefulness and sleep, swaddled in safety.Here indifference is palpable. It pervades my senses and blocks out all others, like a stuffy nose without the uncomfortable pressure, or a heavy dose of Novocain that's about to wear off.I feel a touch on my hand.It ripples through my medium, past the torpid safeguards to touch the very heart of me, and I stir. I look up to see a boy with hair of gold peering quizzically at me through a pair of thin, elegant glasses. My heartbeat quickens."Excuse me is this seat taken?" he indicates the empty spot on the bench next to me. When I shake my head no he sits with a sigh of relief, resting his backpack on the ground with an audible thump. He assumes a position of comfortable nonchalance,
Lost FamiliesHow many toys did it finally taketo make you really happy?How many times did your parent's heads shakein memory of their own pappy?How many grandparents live at home,and help the young and old?How many years did it finally taketo lose family to the fold?How many people died to live freewith a real family, not fake?Now tell me once again, my friend,how many toys did it take?
Out with the Old.... The tree was old. So old, that the majority of its roots had long since rotten away, withonly the weight of its base keeping it precariously upright. The hollowness within the top halffurther helped it to disobey gravity. Its crusty bark peeled everywhere, like a bad sunburn.Most of its limbs had either fallen or broken off, except for the occasional twig near the crown.It had survived countless storms and animal inhabitants, if its' multiple holes, scars, and overallbeat-up appearance were any judge. Its' height suggested that it had outlived many of thesurrounding trees, its' superior position lending it an advantage in light and nutrients in its'younger days. But now, the exposure was more of a hindrance than a help, as every straybreeze threatened its' tenuous equilibrium. Ironically, out of all the things that could topple thistree, a pinecone was what finally laid it to rest; a falling pinecone, to be specific, from one ofthe neighboring trees. Bouncing along th
One Infinite MomentI sit within a shaded park,I hear the birds above my head,I feel the breeze upon my hair,I am alive,I am.I smell the dirt, skin of the earth.I see life moving endlessly.Almost, I taste Sols' heavy glow,I am alive,I am.Imagining the infinite,I see the cosmos swirling waltz,akin to thoughts inside my head.I am alive,I am.I do not know what lies ahead,I do not dwell on what's been done,I simply bask within the now.I am alive,I am.
The Nature in Balance There once was a delicate flower, all bright and blue, that blossomed only at night and closed with the morning dew. Sprouting merrily at the base of a pine tree, it was founded on a flora's fantasy. It had light, windy nights, and the water was alright but what a sight! A bubbling stream serenaded its dreams. In the afternoon it was drenched in buckets of sun, its thirst always sated. It breathed with the wind as it whistled and wooed, winding like witches on Halloween night, whirling like wishes to the silent stars above. As buckets became fistfuls and the flower surrendered to the quicksilver drops of moonlight, peeling away its armor like a defeated knight, it was callously and carelessly crushed. The man's boot was merciless, and in its moment of vulnerability the defenseless plant fell before the onslaught, its petals collapsing and its stem crumpling like tissue paper. As multiple harbingers of death
PerceptionsThe clock read 2:06.The young man sat hunched over a keyboard, staring at the flat computer screen. The Holiday Inn in which he was staying was top of the line, complete with high-speed internet access and his own kitchenette. The room was paid for a single night. Only the whir of the ice machine down the hall broke the silence as the man sat, waiting. His foot began to tap the floor, tap tap-tap tap t-tap. He rubbed his short brown hair, a crew cut, then reached out and nervously wiggled the cord connected to a small, black box that plugged into the computer's hard-drive. A pinging sound made the man jerk back in surprise before peering back towards the screen and to the string of numbers that appeared. It was a series of zeros and ones, to which the man responded by typing his own line of numbers, the password. Then a line of text appeared. It may be 2:06 where he was, in the middle of the night, but on the other side of the world it was the middle of the day. The man sighed in reli
One Minute MessI asked for dinner, "NOW!"was that too much to ask?Instead I get a failurethat Martha couldn't mask.The noodles were like rubber,yellowing and old.The broth was like the Arctic,glaciery and cold.The label called it 'chicken'it tastes like old string cheese,you added just enough saltto fill the seven seas.The stench turned knees to mush,the sight induced a shiver.the texture of this cursed soupset my insides aquiver.Your cuisine is so awful,that starving men would flinch.If this is how you really cook...dessert should be a cinch!
Cocoon Sleeping, dreaming, light,waiting for the day of flight when it's born anew.