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You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

A Poetic Essay on Reasoning

He sat there; quiet, still. The sounds in his life gone, creating a harsh pallet for him to fill. At first, he did nothing. No movement available that could comfort him. Lost eyes gazing through the air, past the carpet, the concrete beneath; traveling beyond the cold earth, arriving in the comfort of space. Without whispers, conjectures, or thoughts of thoughts traveling there, he tried to grasp hold of that feeling of emptiness. For he knew, even without thinking nore feeling it, once light pierced this dark, quiet, desolate place, emotions would come back to his body. Convulsing, heaving, crying would commence again. All for what?

Certainly he knew. Knowledge must be present if the effect is breaking the spirit this much. Oh yes.

Heart pounding, a memory shoots through his mind like a comet crashing into an unsuspecting planet. A simple admittance of truth had crushed a barrier he knew nothing of. "I don't want to go," had brought a wave of tears and despair washing over a darkened forest. The need to go on that journey was obvious: security, advancement, growth, and a fulfillment of one dream should have propelled him forward. However, the desire was broken, shattered like the comet upon his heart. Simply put: his decision was to go, but the choice was to stay; a choice fueled not by fear, but by desire instead. If fear was the only hurtle to cross, the decision would have been solid. But without desire as a sound foundation, no hope could reason for making such moves in anyone's life, and that destroyed him.

Why was this want void in the decision he had purchased? If someone cares deeply about a thing, desires to remain loyal with that thing, hopes to shine and exceed with it, enjoys being with it, then why can't the desire build with the decision? Perhaps the scars still bled underneath the canopy. Five times before had the ground been slapped, five refusals still seeded in his mind. And each time, they planted new hopes and encouragement with "you're our leading candidate." Maybe the overwhelming torrent of the holidays created insecurity with this company. Nonetheless, happiness was clouded over by rain clouds upon making the decision. Declaring the choice brought much needed warmth in an evil way. The evil of it seems to linger with the every day steps beyond it.

He feels regret, sorrow for choosing such. Tears again flood his vision. He wants to know it was the right thing to do. To choose to stay and pursue his larger dream that would be accomplished on many paths. Worry clamps down as well. How can he go on about his work? How can he face his company with such darkness present?

That's just it! True warmth breaks the clammy mist swirling between the trees, darkening all hope of being dry. It can't be done if thoughts persist and remain upon the company and not on the self. So why can't he think of himself? It is not arrogant or selfish to refust an opportunity in hopes that education will endure. If you cut one branch off a tree as it matures, th rest of the tree grows faster. That is what he did, removed one branch from his growing life. And now he must endeavor to find the light in his own life that will help him grow. Focusing on fewer things will allow him to advance faster in life.

His eyes shift, bringing back the sound of a restaurant. Food is already set in boxes, ready to be departed with. The aroma is filled with hearbs, spices; zesty lemon brightly dancing with garlic and basil, an undertone of prawns brings a crisp sensation to the smell. People come into focus, smiling, enjoying life all around him. Glasses of wine clink together as toasts are made in the New Year. He stands up from the table with the one he loves, they grab the warm food and their jackets, ready to step out into the crisp, fresh, clean air.

He stands there, oddly fulfilled. A new sense of strength arises in his will, a determination to focus on his life, his own life finally. Inspiration for more choices in his future clears away the rest of his apprehensions, dawning a new light which brightens the clouds that linger. It is his turn to live and flourish. Enough focus has been deterred from his immediate dream. A writer is reborn.

This I have written.

1 comment:

  1. This was written shortly after I refused a job I had already accepted with my previous company. It was a dream job: corporate with the chance to be creative and make big decisions that could, in fact, change the face of the company over time. But, as you have read, it wasn't meant to be and I am all the happier for it!