Reality is but a fable through which we live

The stage was set before me as a massive display that struck my heart with a surge of frozen vibration: chills fell upon me as waves swelling in the sea. It had been a long time since I had seen such a work of art—ballet dancers dressed in red and black, shadowed by a dark blue back drop. The lighting was dim; the ambiance was that of cold beauty. Their faces held a visage of such expression and passion, such emotion bleeding from their souls. I sat in utter stillness. I felt as though I wasn’t even there, physically, that is, like my spirit was detached, floating amidst.
          When the show came to a close, the curtains were drawn shut, leaving me in the darkness of the milieu around. I was about to get out of my seat to leave when I saw the curtains part just wide enough for I person to step through: a man wearing a mask stood before the audience. Such a peculiar man, indeed, I thought. He was wearing a black pin striped suit, and the mask he wore was made of porcelain—white, with glowing blue designs. In an instant, he through his hands to the air, and then, just like that , he was gone—a faint mist of evaporation, nothing left but the mask he wore, which was lying on the floor in front of where he stood.
          I jumped from my seat, such drama, such intensity, I was amazed. I threw my hands together in a massive applaud and began walking to the stage to retrieve the mask. I wasn’t even thinking; I didn’t even care: I just wanted that damn mask. When I reached the stage, I dropped to my knee and lifted the mask before me, my eyes held rapt. I carefully turned the mask over in my hands as I inspected every inch of it and then slowly fitted it to my face. My vision went black; the room shattered into a billion pieces of glass. I looked around. Where am I; who am I, I thought.
          My mind was completely puzzled. I looked up and, no more than a second later, a massive beam of blue light struck my torso—piercing into my heart and exploding. The light seeped into my veins and began circuiting my anatomy. A weird constancy it was: a liquid light. When it finally reached my head, it began spilling from my lips and drooling down upon my shirt. Still glowing, still engrossed, I fell to the floor, fragmenting into nothingness.




Small trickles of rain fall from the sky hitting his windshield—beads of water forming the inertia for his thoughts. He peers through the glass into the night. An explosion, a bang, a tragic accident: he swerves into the light, blinded by his own illusion. With a purpose and a subtle wind, a silken white owl swoops down and sits perched upon the hood of his car. He lends his curiosity to the shadows within this bird’s eyes. Time stops as the windshield wipers glide across the glass, a slight blur in the prism of life.

This Swan

A swan sits perched in the dark of night.
The absent waters flower it in wholness,
Holding closely to the thoughts it thinks.
The moon glows, casting light as its eternal guardian.
Watching, bathing its silken feathers in the starlit waters.
Dawn slowly sheds,
The swan fades away.

Forever Faithful

A cherry blossom tree sits in stillness,
The wind nurses its curiosity.
Beautiful pink leaves dance in the breeze…
Singing, whispering the song of hope.
The sunset athwart takes to as a back drop—forming nature’s illustration…
Of life.
A certain solace within keeps me awake,
Brings me hope…
I laugh.
I am, forever faithful.

Birthed Anew

A special few saw me through the land of the dead and into the land of the living…

We walk, we talk, we feel, we live…
For what?
Today, I live for relationships.
I live for the silvery wings that guide me, that give me hope.
Sweeping me away.
No longer do I live to die,
No longer do I live for the black of day and the points of death.
I have been birthed anew in the loving hands of today.
And just for today, I can see through the brokenness that shadows my every moment.

Coffin Dreams

I exist vicariously through a coffin in my dreams.
I grasp for the hope, for the solace…
I open my eyes and see the colors come to.
Round and round the thoughts spin free.
The ashes blanket my passivity.
The loneliness overwhelms the ties that bind.
Through the night,
I sing for my soul the soft melody of grace.
Through the night,
I sing for my soul the love of death.

Death is but a blind vision of truth, of knowing.

  I stepped into the parlor light of an old, wretched building to smoke a cigarette. I could hear the songs in the wind, the voices in time, speaking my name. A cool breeze fell silent upon my face; the night astir held rapt the world around. I began humming a tune, trying to kill the silence. My eyes closed; my thoughts astir—my own little world deep within my mind:

Shadows played to life, dancing. Small candle flames wavered with a certain grace. Darkness began seeping into this vision, melding with the shadows–the flames dissipated.

          I tried to open my eyes, but there was a feeling of constraint. I felt around my face until my cold fingers laid rest upon threading of    some sort, as though my eyelids were stitched shut. The darkness in my mind was becoming more prevalent, flooding into every thought. I grew scared. What the hell is happening to me, I thought. Waiting no longer, I pulled the threads from my eyelids with a sense of urgency, leaving me with ghostly hollows of eyes. The darkness seeped out of my mind and into the air around.