I feel this compulsion upon me; as if there was some great words of import to preserve upon this forum...its as if there is a mass of words just simmering to boil below the surface; waiting for release. Something of profound importance and deep, enlightened insight. Though I can't grasp that which bubbles so near and yet so far away. Words...spinning on the edge of awareness; like a fleeting star shooting across the night sky, so fast you can't truly take it in, though somehow, you know inside that the moment has forever altered you in some way; that, from here on out things will never be exactly the same. Fingers dancing along keys, forming words I read as they appear - headlong and thoughtless to what they say. Something waits; something is; something wants to bloom from the inner core of my being. It's Autumn and the world slowly prepares for sleep but this is a frenzied change and feeling of forthcoming, though what is forecasted is obscured from my sight. Words, words words...hollow and vague, they riddle and skirt the edges of understanding and float idally along the edges where they should instead carry weight and bearing. I had planned merely to check my site prior to sleeping - realizing that it is again so much later then it should be and that once again (as has become all too common) I find myself awake and unable to give in to the welcoming arms of darkness and slumber - and instead a pressure to open a blank screen and write overwhlems me instead. There seems to be at times like this such potential; such power lurking where I can feel it and yet not claim or know it fully. It is times as this when I feel the weight of reality and existance and struggle to claw my way to the surface again that I might touch once more the distant sky. It presses on me; it pushes me down and yet this unseen and unknown assailant has no true name - none which I can call upon or fight against. It's there though and yet at times I feel the shackles strain as if skybound and knowledge known can I be again. So close and yet so distant. Thus these churnings in my mind which make no sense and take no tangible form, leaving seemingly meaningless words and lines to fill the screen, saying nothing and everything in their singular way.

What is it that I feel? What moves and compells me in directions I can not see nor fathom? These shifting sands, like quicksand under my feet; this dance I do to be all the people that I feel I am - or rather, should be - these hats I wear and these changes I see when my image mirrors back to my sight... it's figments and fragments and some how, somewhere there is more to know and more that I can not grasp. And then my Muse swarms on me and fills my head with such words as this; babbling out incoherant mutterings like the ravings of the mad. She comes to me and I hear Her - the Voice I once knew so well - though I can't understand it anymore and it's beyond who I am now. This shouldn't be though; there's somethign wrong and missing - a connection which has gone dead where live should flow and flourish.

I don't know what I say... I don't understand what I write. It just pours out of me and brings on the long-overdue weariness so vital to slumber. These dark and empty nights offering no real resolve and little shelter stretch before me like a vast mouth ready to swallow me whole. I both run from and to this place beyond the waking - seeking solace and comfort and freedom at the same time oblivian and release. It taunts me though, lurking where I can not find it and hiding where it can't be seen. Such ramblings come upon such wingbeats of purpose and lashes of air.

I wonder if even this will post. It seems the entry prior never did, so these meaningless words might end up gone and void like the empty place within from which they sprung, still born with so much lost potential...it is late and I do not wish to do this any longer though there seems to ceasing my hands as they dance the keys before me. There seems no end to this outpouring of words and fragmented thought...concepts which have no true essance, just shadows of what might be or what should have been. My palms sweat and stick uncomfortably to the keyboard and the sound of my Love in slumber behind me becons me to join him. Though I feel so alone and isolated, it seems an empty promise at this dark peice of night; a time when all else is gone and it seems I alone stalk these lonely places. Promises of so much which seems so far removed from where I am now.

Enough already. I wish to stop. Heavy do I feel and I can only hope that swiftly will sleep come to be; that I can receive her gift and fly through dreams of light and cheer to dispell this looming darkness and heavy weighted pressure I feel as one does the shift in the air just before the onset of a storm. Light and cheer my way o gracious ones; grant me such a boon as this that I might rest truly and deeply in your gentle embrace. Away! Away! And come the sun's touch of light, I shall look at this and wonder what ever was I thinking and from where did such words emerge? Surely I was overtired, I'll say; and surely it was mere fantasy as I plodded through the lines. Though someplace, deep within, where the Light does not seem to touch anymore, the warning will lay still; again quiet for a time before gnawing from within again; forcing such things that I do not yet comprhend to the fore.

But sleep for now. Tomorrow's another day...

~ flowers bloom near Memory and Dream at 10/21/2003 03:54:41 AM ~ ~