My legs have shortened,
as my breath and the grass. 

I can close my eyes and see the trees,
the pathways in between the trunks;
I can smell the water in the river bank,
the cold metal links on the bridge. 

I can not hide.
I cannot.

There is a shimmering hope
in between the shades -
it shines through, then goes opaque,
like lazy foliage through a window on a breezy Summer afternoon.

I can't run -
the truth is
I can't.

The pain has caught up with me,
and my legs are not long enough.

I cannot run away.
I cannot let it go under my feet as I gain distance.
I cannot run this over.

I cannot feel the sun. 

The dreams have returned.
Cold dreams.
Grey dreams.
Uncertain and full of possibilities,
though not infinite -
they are confined to one place, many spaces sprouting out of the same 
foundation:
an old cathedral;
century-old lakes, rivers, and grass and wood;
the ever-rotatory skies;
the repetitive sound of leather soles on asphalt,
on mushy mud,
on snow -
slow steps,
panting steps - 
at times lonely, at times besides hers.

Which wings, whether metal or feathery,
bring me forth to these northern skies this time
to face the aged stone,
the ragged fabric,
a passing starry-eyed crowd,
and the bridges of foamy clouds?

"She's like fire."

"Except she's ice."

Two old friends talk over tea.

He notices that the tiniest butterfly has posited itself on the left wall of the room.

"Do not touch or scare her away," she said, while sipping on Black Chai. 

"Why?"
"She's special."
"...She?" 
 
"If you look at her closely,
you will see that -in fact -
her wings are not black.
Rather, she wears her shadow as a cape.

And then there's the reason for her visit:
She's here to release me."

       ❧

 

Inexplicablemente,
he aquí que surge el espacio
en el cual convergen mis ideas y pedazos de tí.
Como buenos alquimistas, forjamos elementos para sobreponer la pérdida,
pero basta con la dejadez y de repente ya no hay ecuación equivalente
y entonces sí - las quimeras nos destruyen.

¿Cómo es que me atrevo a reconstruír lo que yace en el suelo,
el ladrillo amortiguado y la mitad del zénit del arco a medio punto?
Basta con saber cómo ambos lucían antes, pero - ¿de qué me sirve reemplazar y mezclar y reensoldar?  

De la misma manera que no hubo quien detuviera el desplazamiento de la natura
la primera vez que el cimiento cedió,
ciertamente no hay duda de que habremos de repetir
este mantenimiento infraestructural hasta que la muerte nos separe de la pared.

Y yo, ¿quiero repetirme?
- ¿Esa acción de frotar y mojar y soplar un polvo viejo
hasta que el día nos despida?

Tristemente, no. 
Enajenadamente, no.

Yo ya compartí mis teorías de fundaciones en concreto,
y ya me había percatado de que ésta no era estable.

Of Dragons

I am done chasing those dragons in my wake.
In time, I can only hope I will tire of chasing those dragons in my sleep.

For now, I am done justifying madness whilst looking for comet tails,
and wishing for striding over seas,
the wind on your skin so cool,
the breath of your lips so venomous. 

I am done chasing the memory of long lost dragons.

I have my own fire to ignite. 

A Cynic's New Year

I have incessantly let the world know that my interest in a New Year's celebration goes from non-existent to, "Are you kidding me?" with every passing year. However, as luck, fate, or whatchaknow-whatchugonnacallit might have it, I know that the 31st of December can be a dangerous date.

That said, I don't do resolutions. Correct. I do NOT. Why? Because you need to propose a resolution to yourself on this day as much as you need to promise light to the depth of a cave - (p.s. : don't even).

I do, nonetheless, have several thoughts I'd like to solidify in 2013, mostly due to the fact that my sanity depends on them.

So! Chapter 2013. Page 1 (of 364):

1. Stop getting pOwned by your job. Yes, it pays the bills. Yes, it brings happiness forth (due to being able to pay said bills?), but that is what it is: an income, not life as a whole.
2. Exercise. Remember the exhilaration and the excitement? ... Me neither, but! I do remember the euphoria and the sudden emotional downgrade, which is essential to a good night's sleep!
3. Get a good night's sleep (like a decent one - not a crap 5-hour one. In fact: If you have slept less than 7 hours, GO BACK TO BED ...Maybe).    

And that's it!
Seriously:
* Be pOwned NOT.
* Move it.
* ZZz's.

Sounds simple enough.

Now: let's see how I roll when sh*t hits the fan.
(Hopefully, like G.I. Jane ...with an asymmetrical Bob).

HmKay, 2013?
Thanx!