The way we might begin,
we wish to tell you a story,
the rest of course,
will be up to you,
for now, here we are,
we stand before you,
in the figure of simplicity,
the human condition.
Pay attention to manner,
would be a general direction,
always notice the eyes,
might another suggestion,
the people on the outside,
will want to know everything about you,
by the final curtain.
It is the actor’s responsibility
to give the audience a reason to …
understand our purpose,
for only a few minutes of this space
we were able to trigger an emotion,
a heartfelt analogy
of why it is,
we find ourselves sitting here tonight,
listening, waiting, wanting,
answers that permeate our own,
A certain self imposing energy will be asked,
a fluid reminder far ahead of any curtain call.
We are all delicious,
really, think about it,
in the moment,
the beauty of our grace,
our hearts have passion,
we feel, we design, we imagine,
we might all know the surreal nature
found inside the fantasy of our mind.
We might travel in these paths,
we think we are alone,
waiting a certain chemistry,
wondering of some quiet destiny,
one we cannot put our hands upon
and form in the sculpted manner of our dreams,
yet they do exist,
for it is in human nature we find ourselves,
imagining the same,
a distance away,
yet close by,
our hearts in a constant yearn,
that when we can smile,
do direct our minds,
to know love is,
love can and will and ought to be,
this guiding force of our
There is a difference in tone,
a solitary figure in a moonlit backdrop,
the sky is a canvas capable of new horizons,
if only for a moment the character
might stand completely still.
Completely still inside a memory,
holding onto the silence,
a wishful recall
a sweet response to time
is all the solitary figure might choose.
Might choose offers certain doubt,
when realizing how time plays a role
in knowing love,
he does want to stand there forever,
in the hope that stillness might be a blessing.
She is that fond imagination,
the caress of somber spirituality,
the sort that energy
speaks of out loud
without any reservation, ever.
I once recall a story of a man,
caught inside a cycle of quiet remind,
always pushing, forever angling,
imagining the final stride would
accentuate his peak, yet the fall …
There is a breaking point in sanity,
when beyond the notion of real,
the body might sacrifice comfort,
instead a forever lust toward peace,
will always compel a forgiveness ahead.
When walking alone hopeful by design,
I would the eternal march quiet resign.
yet when walking the halls,
only when at first he wondered,
about another anomaly,
the forgotten ones,
the two or three or five
having a soul,
having desire and passion and verve,
that energy is a mystique,
he never realized
It is sometimes not a choice,
this element of a stationary hold
on moving forward.
A desire, a passion, a sense of drive,
asking for little in return,
yet the payoff is frightening.
While standing in the middle of a storm,
sometimes wishing to be caught,
whisked away like a piece of dust,
no longer apparent,
just a brief tug on someone’s imagination,
a sweet reminder
of a different time.
How often is it they never really knew,
a salad with every favorite spice,
the element of taste
is its final departure.
When long ago,
I first gained consciousness,
I remember this immediate sadness,
I cried for many hours,
holding on to a memory,
a lasting storyline
that after awhile,
rather soon really,
it bored my closest allies,
or so they seemed,
and I had to let it go,
yet we all know love always returns.
I suppose if I let the notes continue to
dance upon the keyboard,
I might suddenly realize,
perhaps soon enough,
or maybe …
there is a purpose in feeling,
in responding to the emotional drain,
in gathering strength,
See this is the apparent flaw,
that part that only wishes to dull the pain.
Where is that urgency
to step up the dopamine.