Thaaat's it.
Steady, stop the wobble, hold.
Short breaths. It will pass.
It always passes.
What if it doesn't?
What if this time is THE time?
Steady the dizzy.
Stop sweating.
Steady.
Ba-bump.
There it is.
Again.
That's good.
Breathe.
Think of your boys.
MEMORIZE THEM.
Memorize the moments they authored.
Memorize what you'll never see.
Hold.
HOLD!
Ba-bump.
Sometimes I hope the last beat really is the last beat.
Sometimes.
Ba-bump.
Other times, I want an endless string of beats lined up,
like a drumline.
Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump bump bump.
Sometimes I think I don't ever want to die.
Sometimes...
Wise Up
I wish I'd paid closer attention to what I thought was irrelevant,now that I'm aware nothing is.
I want the years back that were wasted on procuring opinions.
I'd sew them together into a moment the size of a continent,
and sit still on a sidewalk.
I'd smile at everyone who walked past until they all had,
and then I'd go home.
I wish Love didn't hurt,
and I wish people were nicer, more often.
It would be nice if I didn't have to convince myself to hate everything to make good-byes easier.
I wish I had been a better person.
honesty that I do a blank page.
I don't want to hide my sorrow.
I don't want to be afraid of what I stand to lose.
I wish the people who were concerned about me
knew me well enough to know I've never considered ending my life.
Not in the hurricane of darkness I was in.
Not in the suffocation of unbearable loneliness.
Not in the expanses of hopelessness I've gotten lost in.
I wish they knew that those were the times I knew I was living.
I wish they were able to recognize the posture of being alive.
Reverse Image
Life isn't found in the middle,or in the architecture of stability.
You arrive at Life in the same moment
you admit to wanting more of it
than you risked in the agreements you made to live it.
You arrive at living when you acknowledge, truthfully,
that living safely to see if you can eek out one more day,
is the equivalent to dying.
I write because it's the purest way I have to enter the Universe.
It's not uncommon for me to sob a pendulum between what breaks my heart, and what fills it, through the hours I spend laying words
on a page.
When I'm writing I'm not removed from anything, or anyone.
I'm dead center in it's essence. I'm dead center in the world.
It's fucking beautiful, really.
The gratitude I feel for the education my life was, the one that taught me how to be alone but not lonely, was worth every ass kicking. It is impossible to repay.
I don't write into a darkness I wish to escape, or turn off.
I write through it to a depth of feeling I don't want to separate from.
I'm not writing a somber death ode.
I'm learning how to leave what I want to be held in, forever.
Life is too gracious for me to ever turn my back on.
Life is everything too painful to lose, already.
Funeral Few
It doesn't matter if one person
shows up at my funeral, or if it's standing room only. What matters to me is whether or not it can be said, I lived.
Did I know Love, both in how I gave it, and how I was it's focus?
A crowd doesn't answer that.
Did I have Joy?
Did I maintain a childish wonder for the ridiculous accident of my existence? Did I remind others to keep theirs?
Did I accept my mistakes as lessons, and do my best to learn from them? Did I come close to Humility because of them?
Did I agree to become less judgemental as I aged?
Did I practice tolerance, and express compassion?
If I did those things, I did them with others, and to me, those things were more important than a loyal following.
Those things, if I did them well at all, are still living, and if they're still living, so am I.
Boys, don't feel sorrow for an empty room that I made no attempt to fill. My aim was to fill my Human Heart, and add to any I could.
If you need to know if I was valued, look into the Heart you carry, and see if I'm in there, anywhere.
If I am, the room is over-flowing.
I know this because I carry a piece of you.
We are not, any of us, defined, or measured, or valued by how many people we know. Those things can only be determined by the moments that we gave without the expectation of a return, whether it be in friendship, loyalty, or appearance.
Those things are determined by what we gave freely to anyone we knew was in need, despite our history with them. Despite the probability of a shared future with them. One Being to another.
'We Might Be Dead Tomorrow'-Soko
