A shadow and a soul


A shadow and a soul stood on the deck observing the sunrise. They argued about the past, how it had really occurred, and speculated on the future and who would not be needed. It is an interesting sight for the birds as they alternate their amusement between the man and the morning worms. The gods laugh at our seriousness and the angels sigh over our frailty in jealousy. And still we stand and ignore it all, we argue.

-OM

Erotic


They touch with thought. The desire is felt physically through their eyes. Music is in the background… something soft and unobtrusive. Nothing matters but the present.

He raises his hand and touches her cheek. He does not caress her, he is afraid he might mar her beauty. Instead he lightly touches her and whispers in her ear.

A hint of a blush, a small nervous giggle, those are the rewards for the right words. That is what he is given.

Their eyes meet once more. Desire has been replaced by passion and fear. The passion is for the emotion; the fear is that the moment might slip away. They embrace it.

As their lips touch they do not lose eye contact, they do not lose the present. There are no fireworks, no magical lightning bolts that come from their kiss. The effects are internally felt though, a slow throbbing of need, and want, has replaced given heartbeats. Their hearts seem to be one.

He leads her through the door. She hesitates… but only for a moment. She is already there. As she takes her first willing step she sheds her doubts like a robe, placed upon the floor next to her clothes.

And above the moon closes his eyes and wishes for the sun.

Have a good weekend everyone.

-OM

Exploding Butterflies


I walk amongst the fallen and still falling. They pause for lifetimes in the air, just long enough for a tear to form. It does not drop, but instead hangs like a cliffhanger… for just another second still. From that drop of lifewater twirls reflections of reality and like a chandelier of chaos it dangles from my eyelash like a flambeau leading my vision by example.

I blink…

And in doing so I shatter the illusion that had begun to form and like a splash of cold water I awaken to exploding butterflies around me. I dance amongst their carcasses like raindrops as I spread my fingers between their lives. Such small droplets of insignificant identities, worthless now, and weighing no more than the wind’s breath that carries them. They flutter for a second as if desperate to matter for just a moment longer… but eventually they continue to descend upon their preordained path.

I step…

Within my motion I strive for emotion. I push myself to want to feel for that which I have seen and that I am currently seeing before my eyes. I begin to cry. Not tears of ideology or circumstance, but real tears that come from a connection to a moment. A moment never lasts though and like fog it vanishes before the fury of desperation. Desperately I take another step.

-OM

Mountains and Steps


Accomplishments can sometimes be a hard thing. You conquer a mountain only to find yourself on top of it with your hands on your hips wondering what is next. Sometimes this can cause a momentary lapse in motivation. I have always wondered how artists and painters that seem to push work out with incredible speed do it. Do they not sit for a second and contemplate and appreciate their work? It isn’t a total mystery to me, however, since I view blogging with much of the same respect. I do not sit back on my accomplishments and smile… at least not much. Doing that is only a temporary satisfaction to me, the end goal is the true satisfaction in life for me. I am thus always pushing and driving towards something in the distance.

I have to stop to remind myself to appreciate the now and the current moment. I have always had an issue with appreciating the moment I am living in, too busy focusing on something in the future. I don’t have a huge problem with worrying overly about the past, it has happened and I move on, but the future is so intriguing to me that I sometimes find myself living there… instead of here. Driving into work today I noticed a beautiful sight from my normal drive in Broomfield, CO. I glanced towards the mountains and noticed a perfect postcard scene. Dark clouds had surrounded a distant mountain top, but had parted enough to allow a halo of light to illumine the top. The surrounding mountains were perfectly darkened, as if in homage to the single peak in the distance. It made me stop and wonder if anyone else had appreciated the scene like I had, or were they too busy trying to get home for the night as most people are during that time of the day.

One mountain at a time, one step at a time is how I am trying to live my days. Appreciating each moment for the moment, it is a hard concept for someone with my personality traits. It can be done though.

-OM

The Dance


They seem to float, limbs extended beyond the possibility of extension. Their minds are focused and locked on each action, outwardly they portray a grace that cannot be learned. As they dance the audience is captivated by the moment and all anyone wishes to know is why are these people dancing? What is the meaning and purpose being shown? For all we can do is sit in envy at the perfect beauty of the moment. We are fascinated by the connection between humans and their art. A very real connection and one that often times eludes us ordinary men… we do stare in envy. But our envy does not overpower our appreciation for the accomplishment that two dancers have made us feel emotion by perfect motion.

-OM

The Cameraman


He watches the world confined within a small box.

But when he goes home he dreams of circles.

He spends his time around the rich and famous.

None of them know his name.

He eats the same food as the stars and even drinks bottled water.

When he steps through his door he is simply tenant 130.

No one cares about his life but Sylvester.

And sitting in his La-Z-Boy he pictures the camera still.

Only the life being captured is his and people actually care.

-OM