"Almost Home"
How many miles
Did we travel down that road
Searching all the while
For a place to call our own
So young and hypnotized
By the stars in our eyes
How could we have ever known
Almost home
We were almost home
How many times
Can you go on tempting fate
'Til it sends you a sign
You can't anticipate
Now the lesson is learned
Our love has turned
From a jewel into a stone
Almost home
We were almost home
Love never lasts
Like an old photograph
Where the colors slowly fade to shades of grey
Love is the place
Where you go when day is done
Love is in the face
Of the old and young
Love knows nothing of the wheel
Of aluminum and steel
Traveling down that gravel road
Almost home
We were almost home
---Mark Erelli
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Missing Perfection
The realization just hit me. It was a few moments ago and I got a picture in my email. A picture of someone I have already seen. A picture of someone who I already knew was beautiful. And my breath wouldn't return, my heart wouldn't beat for what felt like an eternity because of the sudden tide.
I was swept out onto the river again. I was sitting, eyes closed, with the heat of the fire dancing on my face. I was watching a bridge rise up out of the horizon and wishing it was hours away. I was falling in love with a memory and a picture of a girl I had already seen.
I had already seen her. I had already fallen for her so long ago. Still it was there so suddenly again, an emotion that reappeared without warning. Somehow the moment lasted an eternity with that picture in front of me. If the world were more cruel, the phone would have rung at that instant and it would have been her and the truth would have burst from my lips unbidden. Still the only sound in my room is the whirring and humming of my computer. No ringing phone and barely breath escaping my lips.
I keep missing perfection. I find it and let it slip, fall away from me like those little plastic toys that you just can't hold onto. I knew she was there. I had known about the feelings for so long. Suddenly they had surged again. Suddenly my soul danced and laughed, happy that such emotion still existed for me.
I keep missing perfection, and now every day I will be missing her.
I was swept out onto the river again. I was sitting, eyes closed, with the heat of the fire dancing on my face. I was watching a bridge rise up out of the horizon and wishing it was hours away. I was falling in love with a memory and a picture of a girl I had already seen.
I had already seen her. I had already fallen for her so long ago. Still it was there so suddenly again, an emotion that reappeared without warning. Somehow the moment lasted an eternity with that picture in front of me. If the world were more cruel, the phone would have rung at that instant and it would have been her and the truth would have burst from my lips unbidden. Still the only sound in my room is the whirring and humming of my computer. No ringing phone and barely breath escaping my lips.
I keep missing perfection. I find it and let it slip, fall away from me like those little plastic toys that you just can't hold onto. I knew she was there. I had known about the feelings for so long. Suddenly they had surged again. Suddenly my soul danced and laughed, happy that such emotion still existed for me.
I keep missing perfection, and now every day I will be missing her.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Vernal Equinox
The first day of spring and the cold was biting at my ankles like some five year old day care nightmare. I have managed a winter of quiet hibernation mixed with bursts of energy. I have heard, listened to musicians inspiring me with their passion, their aura. I have made new friendships, rekindled old ones, and perhaps lost touch with some. I am making amends and making peace and making a mess all at the same time. I am writing. Music, lyrics, words, poems, prose, anything. I am creating so I don't feel so naked in the harshness of this time of year.
So I stand in the cold of this night and look up at the stars and pay my respects to the Goddess of the Dawn. I tell Eostre how happy I am to have seen her today. I tell her my impatience, I shiver in the cold and hope she sees how thankful I am that she is here. Because, though I may complain and wish for Beltaine, I know that she heralds the warmth, the fire of life, the sun. So that, when Midsummer is finally upon us, I will not complain of the heat, but languish in it.
So I stand in the cold of this night and look up at the stars and pay my respects to the Goddess of the Dawn. I tell Eostre how happy I am to have seen her today. I tell her my impatience, I shiver in the cold and hope she sees how thankful I am that she is here. Because, though I may complain and wish for Beltaine, I know that she heralds the warmth, the fire of life, the sun. So that, when Midsummer is finally upon us, I will not complain of the heat, but languish in it.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Chance and Circumstance
I'm trying to explain something in this that I'm not sure I know how to. I'm trying to tell you what the look meant. What paragraphs were sitting there behind my eyes, looking in yours. Explaining something so subtle, beautiful, perfect is a challenge I wasn't expecting. Somehow eclectic and Destiny have gone into business with each other.
As it always has been, I have trouble finding where to begin when it comes to you. When it comes to the way you've made me feel in the past. To the way you still do. It's like trying to explain a sunset. I'm sure some scientist could tell me why, but in the end, the words become meaningless because the depth is so much unspoken.
Seeing you brought out so much of the best of me. It reminded me, as I've been reminded recently, how little my emotions change year to year. The strongest of those never fade, as they haven't with you. I said that you still sparkled, as you always had. Maybe that explanation seems enough, but it doesn't begin to scratch the surface.
I believe that we are free to choose, to make our own decisions about how our lives proceed. Somewhere in those decisions though, a little guidance always seems to occur at the right times. If I were religious enough, I suppose I'd call it God. I tend to label it Destiny. That little nudge that hurts sometimes but always gets us where we should be going.
We met last night and something about the world clicked for me. Maybe it's too subtle to concern myself, but something is different now, better. I could blame simple chance or random circumstance. In the end, though, I know it is you. You in my life again. I hope I can make amends for the mistakes I made when I was younger. I hope you understand the depth that one single moment with you has affected me.
As it always has been, I have trouble finding where to begin when it comes to you. When it comes to the way you've made me feel in the past. To the way you still do. It's like trying to explain a sunset. I'm sure some scientist could tell me why, but in the end, the words become meaningless because the depth is so much unspoken.
Seeing you brought out so much of the best of me. It reminded me, as I've been reminded recently, how little my emotions change year to year. The strongest of those never fade, as they haven't with you. I said that you still sparkled, as you always had. Maybe that explanation seems enough, but it doesn't begin to scratch the surface.
I believe that we are free to choose, to make our own decisions about how our lives proceed. Somewhere in those decisions though, a little guidance always seems to occur at the right times. If I were religious enough, I suppose I'd call it God. I tend to label it Destiny. That little nudge that hurts sometimes but always gets us where we should be going.
We met last night and something about the world clicked for me. Maybe it's too subtle to concern myself, but something is different now, better. I could blame simple chance or random circumstance. In the end, though, I know it is you. You in my life again. I hope I can make amends for the mistakes I made when I was younger. I hope you understand the depth that one single moment with you has affected me.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Indian Summer
I don't think i've ever gotten over anyone i've ever been in love with. I think i'll always be getting over all of them. I was reminiscing tonight, on the drive home, about a love lost. I felt my body react, my heart react before I understood why. I was over her, in my mind. My heart, though, had other agendas. It reminded me, slapped me across the face with those pliable, yet somehow immovable emotions that I had experienced so many months ago. And I felt myself fall in love again. Maybe this time, because of a memory so vivid. A memory of soft words and gentle touch mixed together with roaring, dangerous, careless passion. A flame so large that it soon burned low,even as I tended to it.
Then, when that memory drifted from me, I saw the effect it had. Like indian summer, it had, in the midst of the cold, in the midst of the bleak, reminded me of the warmth. Of the sun. So turning inward with new found warmth I saw them. I saw the people I had given parts of my heart, parts of the essence of myself to. I smiled at the end of an insane day. I smiled to think that I had loved so completely. I glowed with hope that someone experience even half of the perfection i've had in my life. Even through the worst times, the darkest times, I have been blessed with light. Even as my indian summer faded, I was comforted with glimpses of something I rarely see. My own personal heaven, hidden there beneath all of my hells.
Then, when that memory drifted from me, I saw the effect it had. Like indian summer, it had, in the midst of the cold, in the midst of the bleak, reminded me of the warmth. Of the sun. So turning inward with new found warmth I saw them. I saw the people I had given parts of my heart, parts of the essence of myself to. I smiled at the end of an insane day. I smiled to think that I had loved so completely. I glowed with hope that someone experience even half of the perfection i've had in my life. Even through the worst times, the darkest times, I have been blessed with light. Even as my indian summer faded, I was comforted with glimpses of something I rarely see. My own personal heaven, hidden there beneath all of my hells.
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