Tuesday, December 25, 2007

on being closed

I am a closed book hidden on the shelf. I am up high, among the other books so easy to reach and to open. It takes an extra climb; an extra step of effort to reach me. I'm pretty dusty in fact, as it's been so long I've rested. I've stayed closed for years, untouched and unexposed. I have so much wisdom to share; so many stories you'd love to hear. However, I stay on the top shelf, closed for those seeking for truth, for hope, for answers. I may carry what you need, but we'll never know for sure, as I stay on the top shelf, too difficult to climb to and left to only observe below. I was written with care, looked over and over again to make sure my words are of perfection. I first began as a simple idea- a domino of idea after idea after idea. So many thoughts organised to words and placed between hard covers. And now I remain, between books that are between books. I wonder if anyone will take the time or the effort to reach this high, to discover who I am. I wonder if I'll open up and have the opportunity to share my knowledge, my wisdom, my creativity. I am a unique book; I'm just waiting to be opened.

How I crave your eyes, and attention; your choice to soak me in.


written december 26 1:57am

Sunday, December 23, 2007

On How to Deal...

I would like to think that dealing with it later really means it will go away and I just won't have to deal with it at all.

I would like to think it will just go away and I can live in a bubble that simply floats among the sunny rays, gently grazed with a brush of air; to change way and to flow into another direction away from the one before.

How we kid ourselves.

How we wish to be a kid. To be protected from words of harm; from harsh news; from unpleasant people. To play. We all play in that mind; we are that child that never grows up but only hides in a body that ages- a body we desperately depend on to carry us through.

I would like to think we could all just be that kid we know hides inside rather than pretend to be responsible and mature; pretend to be strong and powerful. Instead we just become adults whom children look up to and think we have it all figured out.
And we pretend we do.

When do we lose the honesty of a child; the truth that we really do not know; we really are scared and we really do not want to deal or know how to deal with the issues of our lives?
Why can we not figure it out?
What are we so scared of?
Why do we not just deal with it?
Why can we not just admit we do not know how and admit-
hey, I need you.

written December 24th 2007 2:17am