“Mirrors and Maps.”
A simple time. Left behind like string intertwined around the rivers running in my mind. There, inside my head, lies a gift and a curse. A nostalgic pathway, twisting and turning like the flux lines of a magnetic field. Leaving from where they began only to return home in the blink of a eye. Somehow, changed But still the same. Surely these absurd words are more than a transcript of my ears trying to make sense of what they heard. A whisper kissed, a whisper burned?
Settled to the bottom of the glass, there was no future, only past. This encased state of suspended animation. This displaced fate of unintended reverberation. Each one with it’s sensations numb to the turning of the world and the rippling wake of inaction. These cracks in my armor, these holes in my chest, limit my movement, and between the gaps I trace dotted outlines of the mirror in rust. Here’s to hoping that one day these colored striations will once again coalesce into a better man made from less. Here’s to the rain. Here’s to the mess.
The missing sequences in my DNA play tricks on me for fun. And in all the time I’ve spent trying to outrun my shadow, in some strange way, I’ve grown to love the imperfection of it all. I guess I can’t blame myself though because I have a knack for falling in love outside of the circle. The curtain was closing before I was finished. I know that now. I know many things. Those long gone feelings of love and life flood back to me. Broken bonds, reforge. From flame comes heat, and in just the right dose. I may yet find peace. And in doing so, forever mark the treasure inside me with an X. That way I can always find my way back. Should I lose myself in the storm ever again.
You see, this broken secret road left behind the aching hum of my bones and the deafening tick-tock of the clock. The clock that travels time down the books broken spine and high up above the trees. To a place where the skies canopy is a distant memory and blind eyes can feel free. If you just drop to your knees. A lot of life to live in such a short time. Misplaced productivity maybe. Or perhaps just boredom. One thing is for certain though, this pre-packaged life, it eats people by design. Beyond the static screens and cracked wooden beams, I think you’ll find that all isn’t what it seems.
The silhouette sunset never really left much to the imagination and it always seems like it’s getting further away, no matter how long you run. If someone makes you chase them, they don’t want to be caught. The thrill though, that’s not so black and white. Don’t trail the waking gravity of someone else because sooner or later you’ll just end up a long way from home. and it is always easier to get lost than it is to be found. Someone who sees you for all your beauty will never find you in that glass trap. Have faith in your self and you will find safe passage through the gears. Holding nothing but a map and a mirror.