Lost in Thoughts

Come, perring I am lost,
Enveloped by time itself
I find no door, no Window,
I find lost time, Chistled into
The walls of Infinance,
It's complexities more fine than
Creation, more frail than this
Moment

This familiar shape
On the other side, do
I understand its meanning, its
Longing, its
Wanting, only inclusively,
Deeper, a beauty more
Magnificent than a dream
Born of passion,
Majestic silhouette defining the
Ocean that I now stand,

Listen, falls of silk
Graze the skin, with
This I call 1000 Egales, with
This I command 1000 dreams,
I dream, of you,

The mind's concoction of whole,
I call through the fountans of my mind,
Enveloped in Time, in a world on Infinance,
come, peer long enough,
A key long lost and never known,
Come, peer into the Ocean I see...

Pleading Eyes

Into pleading eyes,

Tides of pain, of fear,

Bridge the distance between

Heart and home,

Symbols of what has become,

Your river binds me,

My foucs forgotten,

His will not fufilled,

In my dreams now my

Heart speaks, There I fear they

will lay,

Please, let us raise our hands and

Stop the rain,

My heart pleads to be seen,

By open eyes.

What's the Point

Tonight’s the night. No more waiting. Tonight this insistent count knocking in my mind will end, and I will, once again, have achieved the unrealistic, the unnatural. At this point there is only an hour left. I’m sitting in the back room with the rest of the guys waiting for the time to tick away.

To my left I see a few guys running through the music as a last minute refresher. Just behind them I find a bit of amusement watching the drummer stuff his face with cookie after cookie. They are free so it makes sense. Just to my right, there’s a beautiful woman, playing an equally as beautiful smoky grey tenor saxophone, going through her usual warm up which consisted of scales and runs. I can see her grin at me as she took note that I didn’t do my usual flirting with her. No, she knows just as well as I do what tonight means. In reply I offer a slight nod and grin of my own then return to my usual warm up rituals; running through the next hour in my head with a slight sadistic grin.

I remember walking into the practice room the day before being asked time and time again, “How the hell did we end up here of all places?” I just laugh and remind myself that this IS the king of all opportunities. To be onstage with one of the best bands around; in fact, just being able to see them play is something just short of amazing, but no, we were given the chance to play with them! My nerves are setting in again.

I’m jolted out of my memories with the realization that the sea of ruckus has finally settled and its creators have finally settled down into their seats. It was hot. I realize that we’re being baked from above by the stage lights shining down. Only fifteen minutes left and I can get off stage. The most amazing performance will soon be a fresh memory to pull on for years to come. I’m snapped to my attention by the nudge of the guy next to me. I turn left toward him and see what’s in his hand first. Time stops for a moment as I enjoy the sight. It gleamed with a solid silver body and a solid gold mouthpiece to die for. I return his gaze, then his nod. I don’t believe what I got myself into. At this point, there’s no going back.

Sitting, frozen with apprehension, the world is silent; just the deafening count taking place in my mind. At some point this count has to end. At some point something will have to take its place as the defining force of this place. I look down where this silver gem lined with gold is calling me; in addition, reminding me of all the hard work and practice we have seen together up to this point. I grin to myself and whisper… what is the point of doing something you can do. These 10 words have gotten me to this point; what are the odds of them letting me down now.

The band starts playing. The lights above me are shining brighter and harder than ever. The tie comes off. The lead trumpet player motions for me to follow him to the front of the stage. My body is on autopilot. There are more important things than thinking about moving from point A to point B. in a box seat to the left of the room I can barely see my parents through the dark. I can somehow feel my mother’s anticipation and my father’s contentment. Just behind them, my older brother peeks through the shadows. Being a trumpet player himself, and being so called “better” than me, his critical gaze steams my nerves away. Now, there is no fear. Now, there is no worry. There is only this moment.

I can feel the band slowly rising in volume. The count in my head has struck 10. I’m itching to claim my place and my throne. The count strikes 6 as I glance left at my equal, soon to be inferior lead trumpet player. The count is 4. He brings his horn up getting ready do what he does on regular bases. The count is 2 I take a glance back at the band singling out the woman in the sax section giving her a grin assuring her and all onlookers that this guys regular won’t be enough. The count is 1. It begins.

Together we lift our trumpets rear back and wail. We play notes faster than people can count ripping through rhythms and runs like none other. It’s solo time. He goes first, doing things I never thought possible with a horn, but now that I do I shred through my solo like a feral tiger. For what seems like eons, we battle. This is a war that neither of us can afford to lose. The song was coming to an end and I knew that I had the last solo; more importantly, the last note. I could see someone just to the right of me getting ready to cut off the band. I grin to myself and ask, what’s the point? The question that had pushed me to do things that I never thought I could do. The question that pushed me passed what is commonly known as the realistic. The answer was simple. This is my world, and I own it. With that I take one last breath.

Right as the last note is cued I rear back and play my highest and loudest note possible then hold it. The so called “lead” player looks at me wondering what I’m doing as I imagine his puzzled amusement. Seconds go by. I rip and tear down scales and runs doing things I did not expect. I’m on autopilot. There are more important things than what my fingers are doing. I can feel the thousands of people watching as every second go by. I don’t know when it started but, I can hear thousands of cheers. Am I done? I’m almost afraid to move a muscle in fear of falling down. I feel almost weightless. Was it this dark before? Everything seems to dim into itself. Did I win? My mind is scrambling trying to figure out what is going on. Finally I just close my eyes and ask myself with a simple victorious grin. What’s the point?

Good Morning

I woke up today not wanting to get out of bed. Why start something when you know how it will play out. I’d much rather be back in my dreams. Last night’s especially. She was there. Even though all I could see was the endless moonlit sea, I knew she was there. Anyway, I should probably get up; I’m sick of hearing my phone yelp at me.

I roll out, and it begins. I start another day ritualistically by turning on my laptop, grabbing a pair of boxers, and heading to the shower.

It’s that time of the year again. It’s time for getting my ducks in order for college. Fortunately I have a few double digit checks sprawled around my room.

Alright, next step, brush teeth and get dressed. I feel like I’m in my own personal cult. How standard. I close my eyes and take a break from looking at myself in the mirror. I noticed that I kept them closed longer than usual. My eyes finally open from their extended sleep. In front of me I saw myself, or at least I thought I was. I should have been. I feel cold. A sudden feeling of familiarity crept up my spine. I felt the slight chill of the air creep through every pore of my body. It’s beautiful. The ceiling seems to reach into the openness above. The sky void of any foreign presence caters for the giant orb of soft light that kisses the wet floor under my feet. No, this wet floor is deeper than any sea and more expansive than any universe. For a moment there is an eon of time in front of me; I am its center. She’s here. I can hear her calling me, almost yelping for help. Could this be it?

The blades above me are moving at superhuman speeds. My sheets are not within range worth exerting effort. Ok, I guess I should actually get up now.

After finishing up my daily morning activities, I head out the door for another day of classes which turns out to be another day of not having class according to the note on the class room door. This is the 3^rd day in a row now, poor guy. I start thinking that maybe he slept in. with that my mind drifts into thought. I’ve had this dream for three nights straight. Every night, I see the same sea, the same moon, and the same sky. It’s so still and quite, and that girl. What’s the point? What does it mean? Oh well, who cares. I guess there’s no better time than now to catch up on some T.V time, even though I’m sure that nothing will be on.

As quickly as that begins it ends; I move to listening to music. I can’t help but thinking about the dream. At this point it’s been etched into my memory with a three foot blade. My eyes are closed. I didn’t even notice the phenomena. All I know is that I like this song. I open my eyes to see someone just off in the distance; close enough to tell it’s a guy but, far enough to not make out any features. He must be lost. I can feel his puzzlement. He seems to be looking for something, but he might not realize it, but there aren’t a lot of places for anything to hide, and there are only three things out here for him to find: the sky, the water, and himself. I guess I should let him know the obvious.

Normally you expect people to acknowledge you when you say hi, but this definitely was not the case. This guy is strange. When he talks I can hear him but I can’t make out anything he’s saying. I apparently put very little effort into looking at him as well as listening to him since can’t create any picture of him in my mind. I decide to join this man in his grand search. I Might as well pass the time somehow.

Hours pass. I wake up finding myself passed out on the wet ground only to open my eyes to the sickening image of the man standing in the same place I found him gazing out around as if he’s looking for the moon and can’t find it. Strange enough, the moon is still right where I left it hours before. What is going on?

That nap must have done my eyes some good. For whatever reason, I seem to finally collect a clear picture of the man’s eyes. His eyes, how can I have not noticed them before? His eyes blaze with a fire so vicious my own eyes start to twitch. His gaze could pierce pure darkness itself. Yes, darkness. I step back, or so I think. I’m fixated on his face. My gaze turns critical. Still, all I can see is his eyes. It’s cold. Who is this man? The water is still reflecting the moons calm. It’s her. She’s calling me. I feel a tap on the shoulder so I glace behind me find nothing. I turn back to look at the man. He’s crying. I can’t see it, but for some reason I know he is. My hand feels wet. Coincidently he looks down at his hand just as I look at mine.

I knew I was forgetting something. I find the strength to sit up and share some of the lovely liquid my dog decided to give to me back with him. Huskies are meant to be dry towels anyway right? He won’t mind. Actually, I just find it nice to share.

It’s that time again. Now begins the ritualistic winding down for the night: brushing my teeth, taking a shower, and telling the one I love goodnight. I hope to see her tonight. For some reason, the image of that man came to mind. Our conversation was pretty standard tonight. A kiss on the lips and a sweet goodnight ends a day and brings a night that should never have come. There was no dream that night.

It’s late or early; one of the two. Where is she? Just like that my heart sinks through my chest to the floor under my bed. It’s cold. Why are my eyes shaking? I dismissed the thought just as soon as I had got it. It’s dark. Outside the moon was knocking at my window. I quietly step out bed. It’s that voice. It’s her. She’s here, but faint. I disregard the thought. I slide the knife out that is hidden behind the door on top of a small bookshelf. She’s here. She has to be. I creep out the door and into the blackness no longer in the moonlit comfort of my room. Quickly and quietly I make my way to the stairs. I can see nothing but the moonlit man in front, or so I thought. There is nothing but the void. This black ocean is maddening. I’m moving faster now, 15 steps turn into hundreds. The woman’s call is getting louder and louder. She’s yelping out for help! It feels like hours go by. I can’t get there fast enough! Just like that, time stopped.

I never make it to the bottom. It’s cold. My skin turns to ice; my heart to stone. There was nothing but silence. I now know what I’m looking for, but I don’t move from that step. For that moment, the moon is still for hours kneeling to lost beauty draped in red velvet. There’s no more call. My gaze becomes more vicious by the moment. I can’t see her face. I don’t need to. The water beneath me is no longer still. The moon blocked by black clouds. All that’s left is the pain I feel inside. She’s calling me. She’s here. I can feel her. I was too late. In the middle of the raging storm inside I remember everything, every year, every day and every moment. And this is the end.

The voice is louder now, and I feel myself shake. I can feel her touch, and smell her love. I can see her face… I can feel her soft lips come down to mine. She smiles and says good morning. I just stare blankly back almost void of all emotion. Finally, I muster up the strength to grin back. My heart feels warm. Yea, good morning.

What I See

I was having a conversation with this girl and a topic came up that I could have spoken a life time about. I was asked to say what’s most important to me in life; for instance, if I had to accomplish one thing in this life, this would be it. I asked her, “If you were to travel to the center of a black hole, what would you find?” At that moment, I remember being instantly swept into my thoughts…

When I close my eyes at night, I enter my eternal universe. A place so radiant yet secluded. When I close my eyes and daydream, I enter a place where I am everything, and time is nothing.

I open my eyes gazing across the ocean. Nothing escapes my touch! Standing in the mist of my passion, anger, hate, love, I feel it all! The sweet scent of sensation comes and goes. The devastating dereliction of defeat… Nothing escapes this existence. In this place where existence is the visage of a dead gas giant, everything is pulled into nothing. In this nothing, void of life, there is no joy, no love, and no hate. I find room only to call this void, the feeling.

I told her, “I feel it always, sweltering into a dredge of beautiful vehemence.” I promised her that there is nothing in this life time that she will experience that will be so sadistically radiant; so excruciatingly inviting; so ubiquitously infinitesimal! She looked at me for some time wondering what I was rambling about. I told her, “Take my hand… I want the world to understand this feeling… I want the world to see what I see when I gaze across my existence… come with me and I promise to show you a world that is more real than touch and more soothing than an eternal sonata. A world more delicious than any taste, more sensual than the aroma of lavender, and more phenomenal than a scene among the stars! Take my hand… and see what I see.”