July 21, 2010

113. No Thing but Nothing

113. No Thing but Nothing

The question comes with no answer. The request
is another quest on the same path to no answers.
The voice on the other side... stops to think of
nothing but shadows and the words can't be found.
The life that has become the past is no memory
to be fond of... so she said with her silence, nothing.
The path they once tredged was a filthy journey
through darkness and back. When he emerged from
the darkness she had nothing to do with him. She
dreaded the idea of walking in such darkness again.
She despised the person she fought to forget and
the memory of his journey only reminds. She saw
no hope in recovery for him. She found solace
in being alone. She stood alone and kept to herself.
She put away her desires for companionship. She
died to her lust for embrace with thoughts of serenity
to keep her company. She was alone. She saw it by
herself. She is alone. She blames no one and her
blinded heart made it seem real, made her
think that she could numb the feel. To her... it was
real. It was sealed with her will to seclude. He saw
nothing but truth in her pain that her words of silence
spoke with ringing clarity to say... nothing. This is
no thing... N O T H I N G ! This is nothing.

January 10, 2009

114. Important Parts

114. Important Parts

Writing messages on the beach with
splashes of the ocean wiping it clean.
A dream of childhood eventually
washes away with the writings. Only
thing that remains, a memory that fades
but the important things are the same.
They are etched into our brain and make
life long steps across caverns for us.

Written messages on notepads reflect
an important message once written in
sand. Eventually it too gets washed away.
It too fades from our memory until we
only remember the important parts. Paperback
stories are also the same. We read through
it once and remember the important parts.
Life is like a message in the sand... It washes
away.

We only remember the important parts.

December 12, 2008

115. One

115. One


If it isn't one thing, it's another thing. This thing

is all good. If it's one word, it’s another... This

word is all good. If it's one life, then it's this life...

Life is all good, live it like it is one. This one thing

is all good!

December 5, 2008

116. Consecrated

116. Consecrated


I don't have to be consecrated to her or to Ms. F. to be me. The mirror image is the consecration revealed in the death and resurrection of Only to Grey. It has provided a forum for learning the range of division that lives in me. The I of me can stand although the foundation is a fictional prop, the emergent self is real. The spirit lives in the multiple expressions seen/viewed as many images. In the image the perceiver finds a part of themselves.
How this manifests itself in Ms. F. is the difficult aspect of resurrecting the idea of reconciliation. When she reads this she recollects everything she dislikes about herself. In her I am the epitome of disgust and my words only reveal what she has for so long attempted to cut away.

November 28, 2008

117. Mean While

117. Mean While


As of now the beat goes on. The night carries
over into the day when the sun waits for nobody.
The morning is my end of the night and by noon
the day beckons for another try. This isn't an
attempt to die. Surely that was tried but not this
time. I can't lie... I'm just passing time.

November 6, 2008

118. Flower Fields

118. Flower Fields


Uncover your eyes and unplug your ears
unfold your arms as you stretch to the
sky. Fly away with... fly away. Speak it
once more without the sighs. Look at...
without the tears. Seconds have passed
into several years. Dear... I've been here.
Hear this voice inside. Give it one more
try. When the time comes to an end we
can say... once we were friends. Once
we were alive. We stretch back in time
to capture the moment. 'Sigh’... Do you
remember back then when we were so
alive? Like flowers in a field my thoughts
are layered in memory. In the end...
nothing else was said to me.

November 3, 2008

119. Unlikeness

119. Unlikeness


... The difference is that I'm not consumed
by the pain. On some occasions its felt
here and there. Now might have been a
time but it's become something that helps
me to persevere towards destiny’s lead.
You can't erase it, meaning you... can't
erase who you are and what you've done.
It's part of who you are and where you're
going. All of it, all of you and even
I... we strive on. Some will try to become
great others will eventually fade. Some will
fade into greatness. The difference is what
you do with it, what you do with all of it.

 
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Ken Harry Yellow by B. Luis Grey is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.