Refuse

It's the pause in my bones that causes the concern, it's a feeling of trepidation that keeps my feet rooted into this one spot. It's seedless, fruitless, the possibility for growth is devoid by this poison wind that passes through the vines of growth. I can not turn and find myself looking forward, reaching for a movement, a change in motion from what has been into what could be, what should be. I stand stagnant afraid of the venture that should lie in front of me; for it's easier for me to stand put, only taking small, tiny steps forward and backwards, from heal to toe and back again. The hesitation is what breeds the fear, or maybe it's the fear that spawns this hesitation. Is it the opportunity or possibility of obtaining greatness, the possibility of chasing life's truest adventure, life's truest test, life's greatest reward? Perhaps, it is the opportunity or possibility of falling face first, falling flat, being told that these expectations, these achievements will never or could never be? Perhaps this inability to strive, to fully take in life's breath is based around a sense of not being good enough, not being strong enough, being completely incapable of achieving the levels of success that only the story in my mind portrays? But these fears, this tentativeness that causes me to sway where I stand, never moving forward, but not going backwards is not the definition of my being, nor the definition of my soul. This can not be what makes the measure of my time, in this short moment that we call life. The obstruction that is fear, that is doubt, they are not immovable objects, but instead, the mechanisms for achievement, they are the water that feed the roots to our growth. With out these things, these elements that are solid, tangible entities in our world; we do not advance, we do not strive, we are completely and utterly incapable of the full potential that is waiting inside of us. Embracing them, fully living with them, cohosting our bodies, our hearts and our minds, with them is the palpable necessity to what measures our journey towards our success. I can not stand here staring as the sun sets on the possibility to fully live, to fully experience everything that this time has to offer, or better put, that I have to offer, what I have to give, what I have to share. That is the key ingredient to our destination; it is the stark realization that we deserve nothing, that nothing is given to us, that what we create through the sweat and tears of our labor is what we owe the time that we have been given. Hiding behind excuses, hiding behind failures, rejections, or obstacles that life has given to us is the true ingredient and definition to being afraid, a coward, and unaccepting of ones potential and worth. I will not allow the pause to render me motionless, I will not allow the seeds of doubt to stunt my existence, I will not allow the ones around me to perplex my beliefs, my ambition, my capacity to strive for all that life has to offer. These things will not happen through stagnation, they will not fall at our doorstep, but instead, we have to take them, we have to accost them, we have to take them violently, aggressively and without trepidation, without pause. I refuse to sway, I refuse to root in the grounds of mediocrity or societal norm, I refuse to allow the fear within me or the fear of others to influence my ambition, my goals, my hopes, my dreams in this journey through my time.

Pursuit of the Tide

This time, it slithers and creeps through the pores and the cracks and adulterated surfaces of my mind. Clinging tightly with rigid, steel like talons to the curtains of my eyes, producing only a mated light for the grey spaces between my reality and make believe. It breathes and sways and wobbles in a slumped stance of motionless calm, or yet, a protruding yet subtle state of defeat. This time, it wraps it's spider like legs around my waste, squeezing each ounce of belief and hope through the canvas of the shell that I know I have become, screaming the alarm of escape, to ravage through the forest of denial and break through the delusion of self worth, or pity or doubt or pride. It glides, slowly, and with it a chill from a wind not long forgotten but so suddenly present and shocking, it pulsates through the very depth of my bones. This time, I grow weary from the constant shift of fear, its ebb and flow, it's torrent pace that engulfs us all and strips the light of the moon from the stars with a violent collision like a wrench through a spoke, taking the particles of the night under it's fingernails and washing it away in a sea of uncertainty. This time, I feel this slither, this creeping, this sway, this wobble and I dig my toes deeply into the ground waiting, bracing for the opportunity to spring forward, every inch of my skin bellowing out to connect with the flow of the tide as it comes surging by, desperate to hold on. This time, it will not pass me by, this time, I will not close these eyes and allow the light of this dance that we engage to play it's final note with me sauntering idly by. This time...

All the Spaces Between

It wasn't in a single word, or a look or a glance, it wasn't the touch of her skin, or the way that she would grin at any and all of the stupid little jokes I would tell, that normally got under her skin. And while I can think about her skin, it's the one object on earth that reminds me that there is a heaven; it's not the moon or the stars, or the sunsets, or the sunrise, but the feel of her touch and the insatiable, beautiful look in her eyes. But it wasn't those physical things that reminds me of why I've always wanted to give her a wedding ring, it wasn't that her hair would get in my face and tickle my nose, or get in my mouth any time we got close that made this guy want to propose. It was everything in-between, above and around and on top of and below that, when she was near, that brought so much love, so much peace, that made my love grow. She's everything that, when a man can imagine, that he can picture or dream or wish another person can be, that makes her everything and so much more to me. She is the face of every feeling, every why, when or where, she is the root to every reason, that when I wake up in the morning I can wear a smile, that I can have that grin, because with each passing moment I know I get to think of her again. It was never just with one word, or a glance, or just one single kiss of her soft lips, or how energized and flush my body became with the touch of her hips, but it was the everything between, everything in the middle, and above that pushes me to give everything for her love.