On March 2nd of last year, a car accident left me unconscious for over 15 minutes on the scene and could have easily taken my life. A day later, drifting in and out of sleep and trying to recover my mind, these words came to me and offered me a way to vent my fear and confusion.  I found this note much later on my phone “Notes” app and it was a bit like reading a note from a different me from a timecaplsule I had forgotten I had buried.

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ON THE EDGE OF LUMINANCE

Insanity pervades and paints the air with a vibrancy of disorder. Discord persists like a living sea. Frothing, foaming, tossed about, from its depths spring thoughts without restraint.

Upon this fragile web I weave… thoughts suspended in their web… caught and bound by their gossamer wings, nearly lost to their pounding against strings of their own making.

The warmth of a touch grounds it all, lest my mind spiral into unmaking…flesh brings peaceful limit to an expanse quickly growing unmanageable.

The warmth of “now” makes its impression known, a welcome authoritarian. The author of meaning, the moment of now, peace in a breath caught and exhaled.

Like the spent and broken wing of a moth gives tragic  witness to the sprites exorbitant efforts to overcome… so to, these words give witness to my mind touching flight with sod weary wings… like a moth on the edge of luminance, leaving only tattered wings as evidence of a journey of aspiration.

Tears fall dry as the wasted winds in winter.

Cold is the heart in the heat of all despair.

The face worn and torn by the tides of Life’s emotions.

Currents of joy between the waves of fear.

Hope seeps and spills down the twisted river.

Tranquil pools of peace meet the rapid’s angry roar.

Somewhere in between is caught the breath of springtime.

Then that breath is lost in a tumble to the fall.

Winter threatens summer with a heat of cold intentions.

Amidst the seasons storms thaws a hope of meaning there.

With the darkest hour comes the value of the dawning.

Despair in retreat at the whispered words, “I care.”

When a thought from pen to paper goes
there is a loss of it’s original glow.

It’s glean though gone can glean another
and spark a thought in the mind of a brother.

The value of a thought’s unknown for the thinker knows not what seed he’s sown.

The thought so precious must be guarded well and the tongue must carefully this thought tell.

For how this thought is spoken or penned will ultimately decide that thoughts end.

So when your tongue or hands do hold, this thing the thought, more precious than gold.

With reverence and caution the meaning portray or do not at all its meaning attempt to say.

My talent with the tongue and rhyme
Like spring has come and gone with time
And though I’m left with thoughts to speak
My tongue is mute and pen is weak.

Maybe these jewels I’ve never seen
And all my rhymes were but a dream.

My speech is taken prisoner.
My thoughts are shackle bound.
So I’ll leave this world of poetry
Just as it was found.

Standing Still in Silence
In the Wind that Worries Wrought
Taken, Took, and Tortured
By Fates’ Folly though we Fought.
But Better to Be Brazen
In This Time of Trouble and Tears
Than to give up, then hopes forgotten
And we leave no monument to our years.

The  pen my friend will always be for it is always there in necessity.

When the ears and cares of others turn cold the pen and paper my thoughts will hold.

Ink to quench my soul tongue’s thirst, giving fancy flight and feelings verse.

Paper with care my thoughts absorb and the pen no longer becomes a sword,

But becomes the salve that saves the soul from anguishes deadly strangle hold.

The pen my friend will always be for it is always there to comfort me.

Some thoughts seem but a ripple
In this great ocean of time.
But as this ripple nears eternity
Its’ significance we may find:
What is but a ripple today
At eternities shores may be a mighty wave.

My soul does ache as though turned cold.

My spirit falters that once was bold.

A sinister night blinds my eyes

Stalking Hope with bloody cries,

Waiting till Time itself does call

The murderous Night on Hope does fall

Plunging daggers of doubts and fears

Bleeding memory of troubled years;

Drenched in memories hidden away

Hope still stands amidst the fray.