Movement

I have been on the cusp of some things, but can’t seam to break through. Been waiting... with nothing... nothing to show... so I write and hope to alleviate the impasse. This process is really an exercise... which is true... to get to sweating, the blood pumping and the mind working. Keying thoughts into existence and see if they stick or are worth remembering. You can’t do this if you just wait... the only thing that will happen is white if you don’t write... How deep do you have to be... genius won’t happen every time. Don’t expect it... don’t require it... just let it... it can only surface with action... and nothing else is to be expected... Sometimes you have to wait... and good things do come to those who wait... but you can wait to long and it passes you by, never to be remembered... Formulation is a good thing but execution of that creation must happen in order for observation and amelioration to occur... don’t let it sleep away or be sucked away from your conscious because you are too scared, hesitant or unsure. Don’t let the possibility to really contribute or add something be ignored because of the glare from a moving screen or the blare from the daily grind... stop waiting... give yourself the opportunity to fail, to feel rejection, miss the mark and be made better for it... to recover, to restyle and be re-crafted... learning because of this and not getting dredged down into the swamp of self defeat... If you aren’t doing anything then you won’t fail... If you aren’t failing you aren’t learning... If you are learning you might fail... but the opportunity to produce and contribute something, and not only help yourself but maybe help another, should embolden and shield your ego and pride which can get in the way... Though time can bring wisdom and wisdom is a good thing... if you waste your time then you can waste your opportunity to gain wisdom... and with that wisdom time becomes a nonissue. This trail that you go down might have been traveled before or you might be cutting it anew... The new path might lead to new outcomes or end at the old path... converging down the old pathway allows you to follow the way of those before, gaining from their knowledge and their choices to make your own conclusions or additions... is either way the better way to follow... if you don’t choose you are sure to get lost and the inspiration will die at the cross roads... Sometimes the choice is what makes the genius... without that choice you can not enact the ability to find your own way... to set new footprints... leaving markers and clues to be built upon by others.. or to follow in the hopes of keeping up or leaping ahead... Don’t let yourself become a cracked statue relegated to your former glory... be the potter... be a trailblazer.

Slumber of Giants

Where does sleep come from?
Where does it go? So close, but never grasped.
An apparition floating you off to a world never to be seen again.
Quickly you are overtaken, disappearing from this broken world.
Waking up to untold opportunities, not quite grasping the realness
At once you become the conqueror, reliving quests from old.
Then whisked into the future, a stowaway aboard a ship to a foreign universe.
Faces you know but never knew, transform before your eyes. Leaving you vulnerable, as fear creeps beside. The safety of control has quickly melted away. A black shadow manifested, you feel the presence but know not where it is. This dear world of sleep, you so cherish, what has it become? A place of mystery, romance or a torturous existence that is fleeting and never to be caught.

The characters you become, giving pride at who you are. A king, so proud, commanding all with ease. Or maybe a star, yes literally a star, experiencing the speed of light. Then to a lion with a roar that shakes the mighty sea. But ultimately, reality creeps as change sets in. What will be? Who are you? Is that true? Have I been there? Did she say that? Did that really happen? Happiness to fear. Anxiety draws near. A silly joke, turned into fun, then left for all to laugh. Romancing the one, your true love, as real as the warm sun. Then standing still, unable to move, feeling helpless as imminent danger looms.

This sleep you crave, you desire till the grave. Sometimes won’t come, sometimes comes fast, but ultimately never lasts.