One Day, Not Tomorrow

So. One day, I sat down at a computer and I wrote about the sadness that I see.

I wrote how it moved me

How I moved it around

Alienated it

Made love to it

Through it

Around it

In spite of it

To quell it

To grieve it

To smother it.

Today, I notice it. I notice the sadness in the sobriety of knowing

It just is.

In the sobriety of knowing

It doesn’t define me.

One day, I will make love to me.

Today, I make love sing.

I twist the tortured cables of my computer

I tap the keys swiftly

I listen to Radiohead

I notice the sadness

I notice the heartache

I notice me noticing

I notice the desire

I notice the judgement

I notice the critic

And I am love

Within and without the cacophony.

Deep breaths starve the ego.

The place where I am, where I make these songs, often cries out for me to trust. We are built to take risks. There is risk in every choice. Calculation. Response time. Reflexes. Assessment. To see myself through the others’ eyes. What would I see? If they could see themselves through my eyes, would they revel in their beauty as I do? Would they cry at the disparity in our perceptions? What if we could all sit within the realm of conscious perception, each seeing through collective eyes

What if we all could be open?

A shut box

A dark soul

A thick wall

High and ostentatious

Can it be scaled?

I could die a thousand lifetimes waiting for it to fall.

But I want to live. I want to breathe the life of a thousand lifetimes

And if I could I would exhale the strongest wind

And the compassion of my air would float the wall away

And we could stare into each other’s eyes

Marveling at our nakedness

In the certainty of the strength in our helplessness

For we may sit

And gaze

And be

And we would know love.

But today, I sit before a high stone wall

I could die a thousand lifetimes waiting for it to fall.