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trav/is

flowering silent scarlet piece of night

Month

March 2017

Traverse

I’ve come to a crossing,
somewhere between
the abyss and the heart of the wild,
and I can feel the pressure
from my ancestors,
relentlessly pushing me forward
as I try to catch my breath
inside a crumbling sanctuary;
chased by the breaking dawn,
and when it breaks is when
I must go,
to brave the endless expanse and
don the cloak of a dreaming wanderer;
my faithful companion,
hold steady amidst the chaos,
cling fast to bountiful hope and
do not let darkness sway you,
for someday we will meet again,
after the journeys of a lifetime,
and we will share our stories.

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Often I’ll just sit here trying to get inspired to write and fail, as I’m doing now. I’m currently listening to Water by Aesop Rock and lamenting the fact that nothing I write will ever come close to any of his work. Writing is in his veins– he was born to do it. You could spend your entire life analyzing all of his music and you’d be lucky to decipher a fraction of it,
and that’s if you’re smart. To the average person the lyrics appear nonsensical–it’s understandable I suppose, you might as well be standing in a foreign temple trying to read hieroglyphs, but I’d argue until my dying breath that it’s not nonsense. I’ll definitely regret it if I never get to meet him, he’s my favorite solo artist and a living legend.

Maybe I’m just trying too hard– the main goal of this entire site is to be a record of my writings and thoughts for posterity, it’s not like I think I’m creating anything deserving of accolades. Like most writers (I’d assume), I’m overly critical of my work and think it’s nothing special, if not garbage. But I like it being out there– I like having created something, even if it’s worthless. I really don’t think I’ll ever have kids but I still want to leave something behind, so this is what I’ve chosen. I’m also hedging against the possibility of dying much earlier than I should– this way, even if I do, friends and family will have stuff to read and remember me by.

If that’s the biggest goal, then it’d make more sense to focus on quantity instead of quality…but I can’t do it. It’d be too easy to rattle off strings of random words and thoughts, anyone could do that. At least this way, I can say I tried to write something good. I could never write everything I want to write in one lifetime anyway…I don’t think anyone could. You can see David Bowie’s struggle with that assertion in his music video for Lazarus. I highly recommend you watch it.

“Now one in the hand is worth two atop the tallest cedar, but what lies inside my heart is off the motherfucking meter.” – Aesop Rock

Anima

So long now I’ve heard your calling,
a distant whisper in the cavern of my mind,
buried deep beneath the person
I turned out to be,
a tender voice struggling to breathe,
and when required I reach out to keep you alive
because I refuse to let you go,
the impetus of my creativity,
inspiring to write that which would remain unsaid,
please forgive me,
suppressed emotion lent strength in harsh winds
but where I’m headed stifling won’t suffice,
and I can feel my resolve fading,
each little part slowly replaced by sadness
as time sweeps away our foundation,
and I’m scared to look at the rubble that’s left,
of that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach
when I know for certain that without action
I too will be swept away,
keep my heart in your hands,
as you always have and always will,
where it’s safe from my own neglect,
so that I may return for it one day
when I’ve grown enough to accept
the ache and worry that comes
with the responsibility of owning it.

Adam’s Regret

Lord help me,
now I’ve stumbled,
knowledge set free,
vows have crumbled.

I’m still living,
through breath or thought,
fate’s ill giving,
true nothing I’ve wrought.

Tend our garden,
my lonely son,
as hearts harden,
your work be done.

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