impressions: life or death?

the melody



 "I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart." - Robert Frost









"It's necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live." - Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo



M.

I Remember Tomorrow

   

I remember tomorrow,
when, after sleep,
opus and bliss and radiance would follow.
pain,
hushed and bleeding blue
in Nyx's mane became moonlight's hue.

I remember tomorrow,
where, like a weed,
serenity gorged on Promise's meadow.
peace,
crystallized dense tear,
and shed amber light on autumn's premiere.

I remember tomorrow,
what, hopeful seed,
composes such dubious adagio.
dream,
let loose; running wild,
has me in rapture and sinfully beguiled

M.

time & effort

 As January comes to a close, and February blooms, I realize I have gotten no further on my journey to health. I have stood behind the same boulder on the twisty path and done nothing to get past it. That boulder, for me, is labeled "time & energy". It's a nasty one. It makes itself look bigger than it really is. My excuses for not eating healthfully are usually related to me either having "no time" or "no energy".

In truth, I just don't want to put any effort into it. With a little effort, time and energy are no longer a problem.

 But I feel terrible. Just terrible. Not only physically, but mentally too. Because I am going against my nature and what I care about by eating so horribly. Eating this way, and living this way, is poisonous. It wastes money, harms my body, clouds my mind, makes me take my food for granted, and makes me feel guilty for letting something I care about and want to do go.

 I want to save & utilize my money well, help my body, have a clear mind, appreciate the food God grants me, and feel at peace because I am doing what I know I want to. 

I have addressed the problem, admitted my faults and stated my goals. Now, all this recipe needs is a healthy spoonful of effort.

M.

Psyche's Scripts

                                        

          
"Vapor is my tongue," I say, you nod your furrowed brow-
An impression of mine own soul which is sighing now-
I cup my breast and hear no drum. My silver string untied-
No bond, no link, "No ship to sink!" my mislead voice did cry-
My tepid fingers scour the air in search of friend or dear-
Your tarnished lips do roar my name, beckoning me near-
"No creature born from clay or loam would think of your meek flesh"-
Mine eyes did burn with salty vice that ran unseen and fresh-
With veil and cloak I left the hall, afraid they'd spot my lips-
And hear my words or see me speak, revealing psyche's scripts-
"I'm mist, I'm light, I'm empty space where impassioned soles don't tread" -
A flame now blown with smoke for hair and ashes for my bed-
I tug my skin and rap my bones; I am a being true-
Sculpted by a greater face and painted then with blue-
If my palms do ache to hold and my heart to beat-
Why is all I've ever known, starless skies deplete?-
I feel no breath, no warmth of skin on my neck or cheek-
No secrets to be shared. No treasure here to seek-
I look, the glassy amber rings are glazed and sparkling still-
And into them I see a valley, begging to be filled-
"Lonesome is my name," I say, you answer quick as light,-
"Dark is where you'll always stay, the fatal, final night."

M.

                                   

journal no. 1: the road goes ever on and on

the melody

 I had a dream last night. Well, it was like a dream. I saw myself walking down the trail of grass we have behind our house. I was so distressed, and was crying so hard that I stumbled more than walked. At the beginning of the path was snow. But the further I walked the more springlike it became. God was watching me in my pain and he knew how much it hurt me. How badly I wanted to escape my turmoil. So he took my pain away. I left the path and stood in the field. My feet became the roots of a tree and slowly I turned to wood. My arms were branches, white almond blossoms blooming from my fingertips. Just before my body became a fully twisted tree, I looked up at the moon, which was fading because of the sun rising. My final tears rushed from my eyes and I felt at peace. My pain stopped and I danced with nature in the soft sunlight.




  That dream terrified me. I have always believed that I would rather feel pain than nothing at all. I feel as though I am weakening the longer I struggle. But I must remain strong. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the decision that something else is more important.

The road goes ever on and on.

M.