History Scorning Contemporary Love

The simple roads within the
heart
ungrateful for the rains
which
thunder down upon dry
ground
Spare no seed to apart
fall
the rocky ways before
eyes
while searching in lover's
disguise
of forests treasured in
darkest
halls belying truthful
light.
Hidden back amongst the
trees
is love damaged by the
past
wherein beauty betrayed
lust's
reproachfully candor
touch.
From moment set along
ways
only seen by those without,
trust
becomes the idol sought
above
all else that hearts may love.

Obsessively Repressing Love

Oceans Within

Eva beckoned to the bird shyly: "Come here. I'm not going to hurt you."

To her relief it didn't take flight, but it moved no closer. Its dark eyes contrasted beautifully with its white body and yellow beak. Cautiously, the bird regarded Eva, cocking its head this way and that. She felt it assessing her on quiet levels unknown to most of the human spirit, but she felt that judgment move over her posture and tone.

"It's ok. Shh-shh-shh-" she whispered

And the bird took flight. It flew directly towards the quarter moon hanging over the horizon.

Eva sighed. "Oh well." Turning back to the waves crashing upon the beach Eva waited, like she always did; but this time she waited for a different reason all together. She waited for something she didn't want, something more fearsome than the pain she felt.

A large wave crashed against the outlying rocks, filling the air with white droplets which were immediately carried into the wind. Eva watched, content at being alone, locked away from the world on a secluded beach.

The secluded beach she had brought Nikkie to back when Nikkie was hers. When Nikkie was herself. Eva didn't know when that had officially changed, but the change was thorough and deep. It hurt more than Eva was willing to admit, and therefore shoved those emotions away without a second thought. She secluded herself, much as the beach before her. The sand rumbled with the crash of a new wave.

Blue skies stretched out as the noonday sun shown down upon the scene: Eva with her long dark hair flowing in seductive curls and lilting on the sea breeze, golden brown sand under her feet glinting in the rays of light, and a figure strolling down the rocky path which broke the existence of the haven away from the rest of the world. The sound of flip-flops against the stones alerted Eva to someone's approach and she turned to see who it was.

And froze.

Shock was overcome by anger and the sudden urge to well up with tears. Her face felt hotter than normal, her shoulders tensed and started to climb up towards her ears, and her legs started shivering with the distinct desire to run. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down and looked back to the ocean. It seemed to have calmed as well, smoothing over its surface to provide a view of gentle rolling waves with small crashes against anything. Likewise, the breeze stopped.

Nikkie sat down next to Eva, the smell of her perfume, sweet and innocent, lifted off her bare shoulders to Eva's nose. As soon as she smelled it, she couldn't help but saying, "I don't want to talk to you."

"I know."

They sat there quietly, the distance between them visually inaccurate. Both minds were out over the ocean on different islands: Eva's a fortified barracks ready to lay siege to any culprit landing on its shores, Nikkie's an inviting wasteland where she stood solely under a large tree. The subsequent ocean between them rolled with icy vehemence. Some minutes passed before Nikkie turned her body toward Eva to break the silence.

"Listen... What happened --"

"I don't want to talk to you."

"I know that. But I have to..." Nikkie choked on her words. "I have to explain. Because I can't close my eyes. I can't stomach the nutrients of life. Because I'm empty now, and I don't understand."

Eva kept her gaze over the peaceful ocean. "That doesn't change anything." Her own stomach felt ready to empty itself.

A breeze picked up from behind them, blowing Eva's long hair around her face and thus forcing her to push the tendrils out of her eyes. At the same moment her hands touched her hair, a large wave crashed against the rocks and rolled over the sands. Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned to look at Nikkie.

Nikkie's red rimmed eyes were dark around the edges. Her short blond hair was disheveled and her makeup hadn't been applied in days it appeared. Her skin was especially pale and reflected a lot of the sunshine. She was still beautiful and it pained Eva to even look at her.

"Will you let me--?" Nikkie left the end of the phrase upon her chapped lips.

Looking back to the ocean Eva waited. "Fine..."

The feeling of gratitude and relief spread over the beach. Several gulls called from the sky as they flew overhead. A cloud started to coalesce over the shore, moving eastward towards the mountains beyond the city. An electricity filled the air and Eva became overly in tune with her surroundings. This feeling surged through her like a tidal force pulling towards the moon just setting on the horizon to the west.

"I give myself no excuses for what I did. That's selfish of me and I know it doesn't solve anything." Her voice was strained. "I'm truly sorry."

Eva said nothing.

"You can't trust me, I know that. I'm not entirely sure I can trust myself, given my track record..."

"This has happened before?" Eva asked under her breath. Her feelings amounted to a crashing point and her tears fell to the rock on which she sat.

Nikkie nodded, taking her eyes off Eva to keep her strength as she continued to talk. "You were the previous time... and before that, it happened once."

"Me?"

"Yeah... At the party back in February." She sighed. "I want to explain everything to you, but I don't know if I can honestly divulge what's in my soul."

The soft hiss of the ocean silenced Eva.

"But that's what I came here to do. So I must...

"You see, I've always had a different understanding of love and commitment than modern society has prescribed to us." She corrected herself quickly, before Eva could comment. "Well... not us in our relationship... but us as a society." She breathed out heavily. "I see moments as lifetimes, you know that. And the moment with her was a lifetime of experienced for one night and it felt right and placed before me as a lesson to learn. I never foresaw it destroying us."

"It did," whispered Eva.

"I know, and I'm sorry." Nikkie looked up at Eva and begged, in her soul, for Eva to look at her. The overpowering energy pulled Eva's face and eyes to Nikkie's. The lapping of the ocean cooled the air slightly as a breeze drifted up the shore. "I love you. I know you still love me, but I know I've hurt you too much to be with me anymore."

Eva looked into her eyes, still crying and finding it harder to breath.

"I'm not here to convince you of anything. I'm not trying to have you understand my perspective to life experiences... I just wanted to explain myself a little better and hope you might forgive me now so you won't be hurt for very long. I want you to be able to move on with your life and find love, knowing that I'm an anomaly when it comes to contemporary relationships."

Eva's throat closed a little. Her breathing began to stop for seconds on end as the silence continued. Finally, the breaking point was reached and she could not longer hold back the downward pull of gravity and necessity. "You betrayed everything about what I expect from relationships. You knew what I wanted in a relationship, and you neglected that because you have your own view of life?!?! What kind of person does that. We were only together for eight months, but I loved you... And yes, I can't deny that I still love you, but it HURTS too much! It hurts..." She couldn't speak for a second.

The ocean pulled at Eva and she turned her head and saw the beautiful reflection of the sun dancing on the crests of the waves slowly washing ashore. It was peaceful and fulfilling. She couldn't deny the beauty of this place, or the logic behind Nikkie's open words. "I forgive you." The tears fell harder, but they were relieving tears that felt cool and light. "Only because we don't see things the same way... and because I love you." Eva dropped her head.

"I'm sorry I did this to you, Eva."

"Thank you."

Nikkie stood up and wiped her eyes dry. Lingering for just a moment, her shadow suddenly moved off back toward the trail that led down to the private beach few knew about. Eva sat there, keeping to herself as Nikkie walked away. Her heart still hurt, but the waves of sorrow were abating as the moon drifted below the horizon.

Monotony

Like fuzz on nerves numbing everyday experiences to a lack-less appreciation for the extravagance of miracles performed daily. In itself, magic occurs without regard! For the senses to be outrageously disregarded because repetition condenses in specific locals the mind seems to judge occurrences as necessary or meaningless, to place a value on each decision, and to tell itself to stop counting the passing moments with the reasoning efficiency is lost with extra effort. Therefore time persists in a doubtful existence somewhere between the subconscious and reality. The social understanding of Monotony is tragic. Lessons of great importance live deep in the continuity of Monotony: how life is lived, how the soul survives, the misunderstood perception of time, why fantasy and reality pertain to an interrelatedness lost to the desire of foundations to which we cannot hold, when and where we relate to individuals, and how we can stop ourselves, amongst other vital lessons.

Monotony is monotonous to say which therefore brings speculation upon the word itself. The M starts it off on a lingering note, resonating like the Om of life: it fills the mouth, vibrates against the lips ever so slightly, leaves the eardrums humming for that split second afterward. It opens only because the pressure builds to an unbearable awning maw filling the air with awe in a quick reflection outward of the reverberating existence of the M. Precious O, the mirror of the world living as an eye to see the whole of the word through. Your repetition makes Monotony wondrously omniscient through its time. The N is but a progressive step, or hindrance, to the next O; however like a change short lived during the similarities of moments written off as unnecessary. Swirling in the dull opening of the illusion seen before brings time to a ticking T traversed just as quickly, barely touched in hopes the break means the short lived timelessness will end. This T is a crossroads for the mind to choose, and is often overlooked out of boredom. Onwards the rolling ominously goes. By this point, another O seems welcome as friendly despite all the cause to regret its prevalence. Perhaps the third eye existing holds all energy balled within the voided center rounded gently with an infinite number of sides. It looks out across the open space between neglected moments and sees more than its fair share of the missing revelations. Thus, the one moves on still to the N, not understanding that it is different than the one preceding it. They all begin to look the same, just as similar as the general life of one going through Monotony without realizing the importance of such experiences. All the O's know of this tragedy, and thus explode into the Y, hanging by itself at the end of the word, throwing the observer back to the beginning without a second thought, though its intent is simply to encourage the observer to actual live in the moment and not let it pass, much like seeing the whole of the word Monotony.

Only after looking into the hours, minutes, seconds, and instances of the disregarded affair will anything change and become a better part of life. As depicted, change benefits an individual for looking at the little times which seem insignificant but hold so much more than previously believed. Lessons can't be lost. It's irresponsible. Monotony, chosen over the myriad of other experiences, is detestable and should never be accepted as a state of being.

A Dedication

She once told me of the world. I forgot. The challenges presented closed my mind and heart to teh beauty of life, however appreciative my eyes are, they won't allow emotions to enjoy. I have to hear Her voice again, to feel Her presence penetrating my essence, to accept my changes in time and move forward without reserve. Strength is a lesson learned over the years; a lesson both wondrous and frightful, though I know not why. Certainly some part of Her lodges in the acquired fortitude and drives decisions daily. I am at peace with this.

If only this peace were serenity through and through. Calming distillation surfacing what Her words once showed me of this experience in this time; yet they lock a force they once used to infiltrate my soul. It must be a test to ensure I will not stray from the love of Her touch that She shares with all. Thus, I give of my life to Her, dedicating my abilities, movements, thoughts, and teachings to the ages' transformational society.

As I declare, so shall She accept. I feel it thoroughly, and know it as truth. So mote it be.

"The Zahir" by Paulo Coelho

Profound! Perhaps strangely so because this isn't the kind of novel I usually pick up and I struggled through the book until I read the last quarter. Honestly though, The Zahir touched on so many levels of life which certainly allowed individuals of many different paths to relate this this book. The first three quarters presented so many things easily equated with my life, which is why I struggled so much. However, in the end I felt as rewarded as when I read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

The aspect of a zahir took half the novel to understand. The additive portion of the title ("A Novel of Obsession") helps comprehend what a zahir is: obsession; but the mere acceptance of a zahir as obsession isn't nearly accurate enough. For instance, I am obsessed with beauty (it's true): the beauty of people physically, mentally and spiritually, the beauty of art, the beauty of emotion, the beauty of nature both sublime and serene, etc. Obsessed is certainly the proper word to describe this aspect, but i would never call it my zahir. A zahir is an overwhelming obsession that controlls every aspect of one's life: thought, actions, reasons, etc. According to Coelho in his talk about The Zahir he cites Jorge Luis Borges on the aspect of what a zahir is and says "the idea of the Zahir comes from the Islamic tradition and probably arose in the eighteenth century. In Arabic zahir means 'visible; present; incapable of going unnoticed.'"

In The Zahir the narrator, who is left unnamed until the very end and then only takes the name Nobody, discovers that his wife has left him without reason. His wife was his rock, his strength, his everything it seems because she helped get him into writing and forced him to overcome himself in the writing process. In a sense, the narrator depended on her as much as he depended on his own inspiration. When he lost her, he lost himself and became obsessed with finding her, knowing why she left, who she left with, what she's doing, etc. But the more thought about her and the more he continued on his own journey the more the narrator realizes he is truly obsessed with his history. Thus, one of the central lessons is revealed.

One characteristic of this novel that I LOVED is the allusions to Coelho's own works! He references The Alchemist, Brida, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, and Warrior of the Light, if not others amongst those. I haven't read his entire work yet, but this book seems to have used all the lessons of his others to put together a wondrous novel about obsession. About the zahirs in life.

As I read through this book, I realized several things about myself. One of which is my obsession with writing and reading and experiencing life in the various different ways reading and writing provide. I also realize that I'm not obsessed with my history. One of the things this book tells the reader is to let go of the past because we can't let it determine who we will become. It may have made who we are, but we can't let that destroy our aspirations, intentions, etc. However, it also helped me understand where my zahirs exist, and which one has most recently destroyed myself: work. My previous job, the one I just got out of, was overwhelmingly overtaking my life in every aspect and I couldn't shake it (except for getting away, I had no other release from this zahir). Finishing this book now helped me release this history, this experience, and those troubles so I can move forward. All in all, this may have been the reason I haven't been writing as much recently.

To wrap things up, I would say everyone should read The Zahir at some point in life, especially if you happen to be going through a time in life you feel is overwhelming and controlling. This novel of obsession will certainly help reawaken yourself. However, I recommend reading Coelho's other novels before picking this one up. It will help understand to a larger degree the allusions and meanings of The Zahir. It's a wonderful book!

Love of Greenery

Harken
Harken
See your love,
glitters in the eye of diamond's
blood
running the streams of
desert life
rainless, cloudless,
sunless skies.

The green of love
breaks the skin, molten hot
dripping
dripping
dripping
with drool of greed.
You say you love
and love you shall
the needless
needs
necessarily
bought.

Harken now;
judge not the ones who
care not
for the pits your life feels
only fills with your love.
We care not
for that
love;
but true love singing
in the breeze of hearts
whispering to one another.
Not inanimately.

Retail

locked to misfortune
like a slave on Colfax
selling needless tastes of
fornication in the confines of social norms:
the mecca of cheap labor forcing
love upon materials, uncaring,

watching for an instant in
selfish moves past the door
opened wide to my soul
yet none dare enter for fear
of perils sinking in pockets
eager to empty at my wiles.

they believe it's dangerous
they see their own desire
they doubt the strength of mind
they say goodbye sweet appetite
look away
broken
shattered
unfulfilled

they don't understand their eyes
full of pride enveloped by
hatred toward the Company
of laborers working to free themselves
from slavery indebted to life.

Indicate Me

Indicate Me
one, individual, same
Selfish for my own
caring for my right
loses time because I allow.

Indicate Me
author, witch, gay
teaching the world through this
hoping change flows from me
losing time in impossible heaps.

Indicate Me
appreciative, symbolic, joyful
believing in more
simple touch on windblown leaves
falling in a world deeper than oceans.

A Break Apart

Subtle, soft deceit of trust belonging to love:
Convincing arrows dart from words
trail the gaze-less eyes before the sting
Fight heartfelt prose dedicated to truth.

Decidedly done? Tragic ways within reasons
only spoken subtly, softly in honesty,
yet holding behind walls fortified by fantasy
To know doubtfully leaves behind no strength.

Virtuous sun is shattered in raindrops,
spilling painful emotions arcing across the sky.
He won't belong, won't adhere; and breaks
Apart from adoration in admiring lies.

Obsessively Repressed Love

The Fire Whisperer

"What are you doing?" the young girl's voice innocently asked.

Darrick stopped blowing on the red-hot coals below the fresh log of wood he just placed there. Turning to look to see which of the two young blond girls had approached, he answered, "I'm blowing on the fire so it will be bigger."

"Oh yeah, cause fire feeds on oxygen," Susy stated with pride. "I learned about that in school."

His face pulled up in a smile. "That's right! And if you put a new piece of wood on the fire, blowing on it can help it ignite."

She turned and ran away, giggling to her older sister. Darrick watched her with a mixture of amazement and pride. Normally, Susy wouldn't dare talk to him. Her mom had often attributed this irrational fear to a simple crush Susy had on Darrick, as well as any other older man besides her father.

At that moment, Mat walked into the backyard. Darrick looked into the fire: his face felt hot, and not from the heat of the coals, his stomach churned irritatedly, and his heart began to race. Annoyance, jealousy, and embarrassment flooded his body.

"Mat! You made it!"

"Oh my God! Mat, where have you been all my life?!"

The drunk slurs blurred out Mat's responses. Meanwhile, Darrick made as little a spectacle as possible as he grabbed the trowel Carol, Susy's mom, used as a fire poker. The act of working with an outdoor fire, drink in hand as the world became happier by the second, was entrancing and magical for Darrick. He waited impatiently for the log to properly catch fire so he could have the moment he strove for.

Slowly, the party's shock at Mat's presence subsided. The sudden quiet that followed told Darrick exactly what was going on, even without looking. His face turned a deeper shade of red as his heartbeat crept into his ears. What do they think they're going to accomplish? he asked himself, hoping his thoughts would somehow transmit to their inebriated consciousnesses. It didn't help he was feeling the affects of his alcohol too: Ouzo and Coke. I'm going to need more if I have to deal with this too, he thought as he looked down into his cup, still gently prodding the fire.

The sound of footsteps coming closer reverberated in Darrick's head. The wait felt like an eternity, and he didn't look up for confirmation. The quiet was enough.

A pop echoed out of the fire-pit.

The beautiful eastern-European accent lilted over world and pierced straight to Darrick's chest. "Hello Darrick. Have you been well?"

He felt dumb. Breath would not return to his chest and his legs felt too weak to stand up. Somehow, he managed to hold onto his drink and the trowel. Slowly, like a newly born butterfly drying its wings, Darrick turned his head to look up at Mat in feigned confusion. "Oh! Mat! Hey, how's it going?" Magically, his legs helped him to stand.

"Oh, I am alright. Thanks." His eyes weren't focused, as if he were trying to manifest the proper responses. "And you?"

Darrick's lungs were working again, albeit staggeringly. He allowed himself a moment of quiet while he looked at Mat's perfect face: sharp cheekbones, thin eyebrows, blond-wavy hair down to his chin and tucked behind his ears, skinny nose, dark blue eyes, and a mole right next to his let ear. His thin lips were relaxed in a nervous smile that showed his discomfort more than his posture. "I'm alright... Heh, a little tipsy, but I'm pretty good." Darrick looked away as Mat tried to make eye contact.

"That is good."

Silence. Deafening, stabbing, electrified silence.

Darrick couldn't take it any longer. "How was your trip?" He still didn't make look at him, pretending to watch the three kids running into the darkened back yard away from the fire-pit.

"It was quite enjoyable. My family is doing well. They wish for me to return home soon, but I told them I couldn't leave America yet." Something about Mat's accented tone drew Darrick's gaze to his eyes. His last words stimulated a racing heartbeat again.

The fire popped again. Darrick looked at the withering coals and noticed the underbelly of the new log was charred slightly. It was almost ready to burn wildly with a little coaxing. As he knelt down, he called over his shoulder, "For school still?"

"That is part of it, yes."

Taking a deep breath in, he tried to stabilize his hopes and fears. Blowing a hard breath out, he lifted the log with the trowel and watched a flame take root. It spread quicker than he thought it should, enveloping the log where it spawned and flaring up in a quick burst. Darrick placed the log at a slant so air could still circulate underneath.

Something changed in that instant that he put the trowel down, and Darrick knew the feeling well. He looked up at Mat to see his face frozen as he watched Darrick working at the fire. Swinging his gaze out across the party, everyone stood; laughing, drinking, or walking to the liquor table for more 'refreshments'. Everyone frozen in a moment of life. All sound had ceased, except for the fire popping and sizzling as air and water flickered in and out of existence in its heat.

"You are quite brave to summon me here and now. And you're not even sure if any of these others are like yourself."

Darrick looked back into the flame to see a salamander standing in the flames, starring straight into Darrick's eyes. "I figured I'd be alright."

"But you are not."

Darrick didn't answer.

"You knew this would happen tonight, didn't you. That's why the summoning was started well before this moment."

"I was afraid I wouldn't be able to handle Mat being here." Darrick looked down at his hand with the Ouzo and Coke in it. "I wanted your help... guidance."

The salamander was silent for a moment. "On what do you wish me to advise?"

Sighing heavily, Darrick began tentatively, "He knows. I hate that he knows, yet I can't ask him of his own feelings. Well... I can, but I don't know if I should."

The laugh sizzled in the air and the fire intensified. "My advise will not assist more than simple words in this case. I cannot stay long, so this is what I'll say:

"Gentle breezes tell only what the air can say. The rains which drop in sorrow benefit only the ground. Earth slowly beckons in rumbling churns under our feet. The passion of the heart flares when it is right. Yet the spirit of life, in its purest form, speaks to us all and tell us the path to follow. You have the path now, here, with your elements surrounding your soul.

"Now go... Time is passing and I must retreat to its whims."

A louder pop reverberated off the house. "That was amazing!" Mat said.

"Huh?" Darrick looked up at him, honestly bewildered.

"The fire. You made it... explode? That's not right... You made it get big quickly!"

"Oh, yeah." He laughed softly with honest amusement. "It's a gift, I suppose."

Mat knelt down beside him and looked into the flames. "My family would call you a muž který šeptá do ohně."

Looking over at Mat, Darrick melted inside. "Err... what?"

"Oh, sorry... I mean to say... a fire whisperer, I think is how you would say it."

Darrick smiled openly. The thought that Mat might actually know a little something more about Darrick brought warmth to his chest. They both relaxed a little next to the fire. Darrick rocked back on his heals and Mat sat down and crossed his legs. Heat and light poured out of the pit.

A daring fortitude overcame Darrick. "So, what are the other reasons why you don't want to leave America yet?"

Mat looked up into the clear sky. The stars had appeared a while before, but Darrick hadn't noticed them until that moment. Sparkling in the dark blue, he felt them shining upon them with audacious clarity. A breeze flowed through the treetops, whispering as the leaves brushed against each other. Darrick heard them and felt comfort in its poetry.

Hesitating, Mat said, "You..."

The world shifted as tears welled in Darrick's eyes. His heart pounded with renewed force. He couldn't breathe and his smile was tremulous. As his first tear fell, Darrick moved to wipe it away before anyone could notice.

"Did I upset you? What's wrong?" Mat leaned forward aggressively, a hand uncertainly stretched out towards Darrick's leg.

Darrick shook his head without speaking. His smile became stronger and he looked into Mat's eyes. They were wide and intense, his irises open with inquisitive awe. "Noth-nothing's wrong." Again he shook his head and looked beyond Mat to see Carol exuding a smile of satisfaction. She nodded once and walked inside after the others. The childrens' laughter in the yard intensified for a moment as they played hide and seek.

Mat continued with great care. "I realized while I was home that I have great feelings for you." He stopped and waited to see what Darrick would do. He merely looked down at his hand for a second and back into Mat's eyes. "I couldn't admit it before I left, and I'm sorry about it. Forgive me?"

Darrick, whose smile had yet to leave his face while tears began streaming down his cheeks, nodded with enthusiasm. "Of course! I... I just... I was so confused."

"It is my fault. I never knew this before... No one told me it would be like this. I was afraid." Mat's voice was trembling as he spoke. His eyes had dropped in a disconcerting manner which pulled at Darrick's heart again.

"Can w--"

"Let me finish. I must say this now." He inhaled deeply and brought his eyes level with Darrick's. His face was set with determination and a smile which sent tingles through Darrick's body. And then he said it, with the most passion and adoration ever heard. "Darrick. I love you."

The world melted away.

Surfacing Depression

Everything about me is black.
My hair, my clothes,
my heart, mind, and smile.
Darkened in luminescent voids
of brightness
painfully invading the
cavity in my chest.

Why?
Thanks for asking; the stab
burrows further
for I know not why.

Gentle coercing smiles
berate sorrowfully,
obsessively pulling away covers
comforting the will
of serenity and joy.

The tale wraps endlessly
through the pages
on and on;
occasional spells casting shadows
upon the soul
till something sparks
creation
in the voids altering inabilities
authentically
transferring the realm of darkness
to sunlit vales.
But for now, in moments traceable
only in time,
I struggle against the
unknown.

Catharsis

Cathartic Explosions Decimate
my motions,
emitting further
encounters
evolving
experiences without necessities
guarding every
aspect of the movement.

Release Is Wondrous
as words
fly
from mind
to yours.

Welcome The Renewed and
familiar
challenges
accompanying happiness.

Controlling Time Controlling You

The cage enslaving thought trembles through the tumultuously tailored time enveloping careless torturers. Seemingly simple behaviors create doubt where existence depends solely on an experience of movement without stagnation impeding delicate footsteps. This doubt dances in the wild fires of pain as life continues balancing factual interpretations of the reality of fantasy and the fiction of reality. Time is thus created through both; existing of its own accord unfathomable in memory and untouchable by the mind supplicating immediacy with otherness. Tragic declarations of boredom exacerbate the subtlety in its passage; however, seconds exist in their describably ticking way, ceaselessly behind the clear visage of the world. Turning and turning, weaving through the indigenous faculties humanity implemented the fourth dimension upon, ever on and on. As life remains in existence, so too do invisible creations birthed beyond comprehension from a solid foundation permanently fixed in realms pulsing between the folds of thought. What to do remains intertwined with endless possibilities challenging the force of gravity in the unobstructed plain of emptiness where inspiration, change, and chaos exist. Time flies where clocks are meaningless.