Being given joy was the greatest gift of all back then

Sweets, gifts, and the luxury of time is what we received.

What we didn’t expect was given,

As also what we took for granted was given, too.

Somewhere along our path, we ventured into unknown territory

The sky, an unknown color, overshadowed our view.

The trees, bare and broken were scattered across the road.

It seemed our wonderland was shattered.

It seemed we could never achieve that state of ecstasy ever again.

Somewhere along this path, our wonderment was replaced

With pure cynicism.

No gifts were bestowed in these days.

Or were they?

No, but we could create our own.

Could we sow our own harvest,

Create what we so desired?

Of course.

It will not be easy.

It will not be without work.

But that is where our wonder went.

No, it was replaced.

The wonderment of the unknowns of our reality

Were transformed into something else.

Dreams, Desires, Drive.

What was given is now worked for.

What we live in now is better than before.

T’was on a braw, bricht, Moonlicht nicht,

Where there I met this lassie,

Such a bonnie wee lass I ne’er had seen,

With her twinkling eyes, so sassy!

The dew was on the heather,

The moon high over the glen,

I met her there, near Inverness,

But we’d never meet there again,

She kissed me once in the moonlicht,

It was there she stole my heart,

For she was a fairy princess,

Who knew, we soon would part,

Though it seemed a novel invention,

That I might propose to her,

I soon made clear my intention,

Whispered in a sweet demure,

But my bonnie wee fairy princess,

Who with my whole heart I desired,

Left me there in the dewy heather,

Lovelorn, heartbroken and tired,

Me wee tartan kilt I treasure,

A plate of piping haggis I adore,

But my bonnie wee fairy,

In the bricht, Moonlicht nicht,

Is lost to me, ...evermore.

(c) BAM

Snow fell soft and heavy on the rooftops, drifting down to muffle the city’s labored breaths. Four black ravens traversed the darkening sky as jazz music and the scent of chilled plum wine wafted along asphalt corridors. People walked more quickly now, as the bite of frost began to set in. They had places to be. Warm places, smelling of honey and fruitcake, dusted with laughter. They hardly noticed that some did not. Beneath the eves of an ancient cathedral, a young woman sat alone. Her hair was drawn back in a tattered scarf and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Everything about her, from her pale, gaunt face to her rigid, unmoving figure likened her to the statues that surrounded her, save for the faint blue pulsing of veins beneath translucent skin. Yet unlike the statues, she was not sought after or prayed to. They did not bestow upon her praise or garlands or candles. Strange how rough stone could bring comfort while quivering flesh begot only gilded aversion. And that was all she was to them. Strange. A stranger. She was not spared any shred of humanity as her pride was stamped to shards beneath their sturdy boots and swept up in their winter coats as they strode past her. Not unkindly, but unknowingly. They did not see her because they did not want to see her. Their world was curated, filled with items of light and beauty, insulated from the cold--a luxury she could not afford. Yet, sadly, their indifference was a blessing to her. She could stay there, shivering from cold, beneath the eves.

My foot tapped with a clear impatience as I waited in the line. I had been here since 6:10 on the dot just so I could get a good spot. Mark that on my list of choices that have taken away twenty minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

I pulled out my pocket watch for what seemed to be the 50th time since arriving at the freak show's entrance. Was it just me, or did the small black needle seem to move slower with each second that I looked at it? Pedestrians seemed to be packed around me, making my skin crawl. God how I couldn’t wait to get my own little bubble of personal space back.

But for now, I was just in the same place they were, waiting for the “closed” sign to flip around and the gates to swing open. The show started at 6:30 but as the seconds ticked on ever so slowly my restlessness seemed to get worse somehow, along with my thread of patience. Kids around me screamed and giggled, chasing one another as they weaved through the line. Mothers and fathers barked at them to be on their best behavior, threatening them with whatever punishment deemed to be fit.

Thank God I planned on being single for the rest of my life.

At last, to my relief, the creaking sound of the gate opening rang throughout the entire back lot, bringing silence among the citizenry. As quickly as that relief came, though, it was instantly replaced by disgust and horror.

An old man unsteadily making his way out of the fog on a thin cane hobbled his way out, head down as he bit his lip in concentration. Grey rags of what might have used to be a pinstripe suit clung to his frail frame, bones jutting out where gaping tears revealed pale skin that was tight with wrinkles. Everything about him seemed to be sharp and precise, not a single curve on him. His gray beard speckled with some hairs of white swayed as he walked, whipping around in the frigid wind, a few strands still left on the top of his head.

Seeing him was like a ghost from a horror story coming to life.

There was a pause between him stopping and opening his mouth. Since his appearance was chilling enough I immediately prepared myself for a demon to fly out of him or black smoke to pour out. “So sorry for the wait everyone,” he croaked, voice hoarse like air rushing over sandpaper, “I have a horrid time trying to find my way around here.”

Lifting his head, I managed to bite back my gasp unlike everyone else. Instead of normal eyes with two colored irises, wide orbs of white gazed at nothing. Red arteries lined the edges that even being a good five feet away was obvious, leading to the bulging scars that inflamed the tissue of his eye sockets. Faintly there was the gray outline of a circle that may at one time been a membrane of his delicate pupil. Just looking at him made shivers trail up and down my spine.

“Now there's a surprise,” he gave a just about toothless grin, only a few brown teeth that scattered along his gums were visible, “No children are crying this time. But I assume I have everyone's attention at the moment, right?”

Some people, so stricken with shock, just managed a slow nod. Obviously, their brains still didn't process the man was most likely blind and a nod would do no good. Since I seemed to be the only one not shaking like an infant, I cleared my throat and let out a loud, “Right you are sir!”

Quicker than my eye could follow he whipped his cane around to point at me. Every person around me jumped back a foot or two but I stood firm, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “Here's a courageous fellow,” he cackled, poking me with the end of it, “What would you happen to be looking for at a humble little freak show like this, hmm...?”

It seemed almost like a trick question as those pure white spheres in his sockets bore into me. Even though I know he couldn't see it, I smirked. “I'm looking for a display of just how creative God can be. Curiosity may have killed the cat but I'm still alive after all of my searchings, aren't I?”

He gave a raspy laugh and reached up to thump me on the shoulder. “You're a brave man I'll give you that,” the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly, “A stupid one at that, but still brave.” He bowed his head and gestured back towards the gate with a crooked finger. “There are creatures in there the devil himself shrinks away from. Monsters of nightmares. Freaks that haven't seen the light of day. They despise people like you, ones who look at them like animals. Go in there,” he lifted his chin, smile gone, “And your life will change forever. I can’t promise you that no harm will come.”

That unsettling feeling was returning quick, whispers of startled guests ringing around me like a church bell chiming as the hour struck. I should have turned and run. I should have decided to just leave it be and go home. I should have listened to the clear warning. But my pride, steadfast and as strong as diamonds, led me to chuckle.

“What do you think I'm here for?”

He started to laugh again, this time, a bit more obnoxious. It was raspy, like a cat that couldn't get a furball out of its esophagus. It was pretty enjoyable until he was coughing for air, struggling to keep breathing. Spit flew out of his mouth, spraying anyone unfortunate to be in a two feet radius of him. One of the women whacked him on the back as she freaked out three times with her purse. To everyone's, including myself, surprise a brown wrinkled tooth flew out and onto a child's hand. I muffled the sound of my own laughter as the little girl screamed and flung it away, wiping at her hand as if she was now infected.

The man managed to catch his breath, leaning on his cane for support as one of his gnarled hands clutched his knee. As he did, he lifted his head so his milky eyes could stare up at me once again. “Go inside then ye young wanderer,” he gave a toothless grin, “Go inside and come out changed forever. Old Man Pete will watch over ye.”

With a pat on my shoulder, he limped to the front of the line and slammed his cane on the front of the gate. “Y’all heard me! Welcome to the land of God's rejects!”

Everything was fire.

The sky. The water. The trees.

The orange swirled into the yellow. The red into the orange. Colors shifted and new artwork appeared before me every minute or so.

It was a painting. A wonderful, ever-changing painting. I knew it wouldn’t last long– sunsets never do. I still planned on laying on the shore for as long as nature continued to put on the spellbinding show.

Laying there in that open space, after crossing a bridge and taking a short trek through the forest, was something I did as often as I could. Somehow, impossibly, I was the only one who had figured out how beautiful the area could be in the short time it took the sun to pass the horizon and disappear for the night. At least, the only one who appreciated it enough to make the trip out nearly every evening.

My bike lay where I had let it fall an hour earlier–my book bag not far from it. A few papers and books were scattered around the blanket I had set out from when I tried to get some homework done before sunset came (an unsuccessful endeavor).

The longer I lay there, the deeper I slipped into the environment and out of my own head. All of the sights and sounds and smells completely filled my senses. Toads living near the creek I crossed earlier sang progressively louder the longer I lay there. A few crickets were beginning to join in as well, all along with the steady beat of the water gently sloshing against the shore: a symphony accompanying the colorful show. Then there was the comforting scent of fresh pine that reminded me of hikes from my childhood.

If I wasn’t careful, it could all lull me to sleep.

I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest with a soft sigh. The show wouldn’t last for much longer, not that I had expected it to. The short escape was still nice.

It was when I was about to gather my things that I noticed her. She was farther down the shore, kneeling in the grass with an object held up to her face. I realized after squinting for a moment that it was a camera. She was taking pictures of the beautiful view before us.

I was about to get upset with her, but quickly brought myself back down, ashamed. I had made a conscious choice to never take pictures of the sunsets ever since I first started coming here. Even when everything was pastel, a calming beauty with soft pink clouds on a muted dark blue sky. Or when there were many different shades of purple, my all-time favorite color. Even when the sky burned with such a fiery passion that my heart leapt and I felt more alive. There was something beautiful in the fleeting moments. How the sky never once looked the same. It broke the sanctity of it all, somehow. I was afraid the magic would be lost when the moments were no longer completely unique; trapped in something as common as an everyday photograph.

Selfishness was another part of it, if I was being honest with myself. This area was mine. Those sunsets were mine. It was my one escape, and sharing it with another, or many others, was not something that I wanted.

Those feelings were petty and unnecessary. I knew that. And while I was mad at this stranger for breaking the spell for a moment, I was over it quickly.

Even in the dying light, I could make out a few key features of the stranger’s appearance. She wore a skirt and t-shirt, an odd choice for the weather. It wasn’t absurdly chilly, but not that warm either, and it was only going to get colder. That's as much as I could see of her attire from where I sat.

Although, I barely noticed what she was wearing. It was her hair that had caught my attention. Even in the slowly dimming light, I could see the striking color. It was blazing even more brilliantly than the sunset. In that moment, I forgot all about my previous view as this new one appeared before me.

She looked over at me and I froze, embarrassed to have been caught staring. To my surprise, she raised her arm high in the air and waved at me with an apparent joy. I had expected more of an embarrassed or uncomfortable response.

I tentatively raised my own hand in reply, smiling slightly. Not that she was close enough to see my expression. I had encountered few people during my evenings here, but no one had ever greeted or payed me any attention before. Much to my usual preference.

After my reply, she turned her gaze back towards the now nearly set sun. I watched as she brought the camera back up to her face before turning back towards my belongings that needed to be gathered up.

With a soft groan, I leaned back to grab my book bag and pulled it into my lap, stuffing everything into it without much care. Papers were shoved in the main pocket, the remainder of my dinner put in another, and various books weighed everything down by the time I finished. All that was left was my blanket. There was enough sun left to see the area directly in front of me, but that light was fading fast. Tossing my bag to the side, I started bundling the blanket up in my arms.

Different toads had begun to croak as I did so. The tone was deeper than before. I no longer found it as melodious, more annoyed by how loud they had gotten.

With the rolled up blanket tucked under my arm, I turned back towards the horizon. The sun was gone and the last remnants of deep orange were slipping farther down the sky. A crescent moon grew brighter as the surrounding sky became darker.

While the clouds with their crazy colors and the complimentary sky were absolutely breathtaking most nights, my favorite part, when I could stay for it, was when the stars started to emerge and there was just barely any light left above the horizon. These moments were the last few seconds separating the day from the night. I stood there until the sky was black and blue, the sunset fully capturing my attention once again, and the stranger was pushed to the back of my mind. The only light left illuminating the lake was given by the soft glow of the moon.

Having stood in place for so long, I finally turned around–and jumped. I guess I had been so distracted that I wasn’t aware of any changes in my surroundings.

Because there was the girl with the fiery hair, right in front of me.

“Hi!”

I froze, unsure what to do. Here was this beautiful girl, right in front of me.

The girl I was somewhat angry with for taking pictures of my sunset.

The girl I was somewhat in awe of; both from her beauty, and her abundance of joy.

“Wasn’t that sunset amazing?” she mused. Her voice rang out, a little jarring compared to the stilling quiet surrounding us. The toads had gone silent, but the crickets were only becoming fiercer. “I’m glad I happened to be walking by the lake this evening.”

“Yeah…” I said slowly. “You wandered into the right area. Not many other people have discovered this clearing. Not during sunset, at least.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“And now the moon! I mean, look at the lake. It’s breathtaking.” The stranger spoke with such passion. She wasn’t holding anything back. It was admirable. She was barely even looking at me, enraptured with the sight she spoke of, flashing an enormous grin.

After hesitating for a moment, more gravitating towards the girl than the water she obviously wanted me to look at, I finally followed her gaze.

It was worth it.

The reflection of the setting was perfectly clear in the lake, the water having stilled as the evening turned into night. The tall pine trees behind us were included in it all. Somehow, they were at ideal heights so that the moon was perfectly framed between them, with some looming high on either side and the shorter ones just below it.

To say it was a breathtaking sight was no exaggeration. I gasped as I took in the view.

“I know, right?”

I tore my gaze away from the lake at the sound of her voice, and found myself staring at her once again. She stood right beside me now. I would guess that there were no more than a couple inches separating us in height, with her on the higher end.

She wore suspenders over a gray shirt, a black skirt, and orange sneakers that very nearly matched her hair. Now that I was up close, I could see small freckles sprinkled from one cheek to the other, across her nose and under her eyes. Upon closer inspection, I also found that her hair was naturally a bright orange and that she had dyed some lighter and darker streaks into it. All together it looked like a brilliant fire.

Or a sunset.

“Do you come here a lot?”

Startled, I shifted my eyes down slightly so that I was looking into hers. They’re darker than I expected. A deep brown. It was incredibly pretty.

“I only ask because you said not many people come here, so I assume you’re around often enough to know.” She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that I had been caught gaping at her more than once now. Either that, or she hadn’t noticed. She gave me a soft smile, but her eyes were shining bright.

“Almost every evening,” I started quietly. My voice slowly rose from a whisper as I grew more comfortable. “I happened to come across the clearing one evening, kind of like you just did. That was several months ago, though. Last Valentine’s Day. It felt so calm and nice that I thought to come back again the next evening. From there, it just became habit. I come as much as I can now.”

“Is the moon in the lake always this clear?”

I hesitated, glancing back at the water. I’d never really thought to look at the lake once night had come. The nights I did stay late enough, I was either focusing on the stars above me, or gathering my stuff and heading back home as quickly as possible. I felt no need to stay after the sun was finished setting. Embarrassed by this fact suddenly, I started off soft again.

“Actually, I don’t know. I come here for the sunsets, mainly. More often than not I leave before the sunset has disappeared so that I still have some light to guide my way back home. When I do stay, it’s to watch the stars come out.”

“Well, there’s no surprise there,” she said, “That sunset was rather spectacular. Although, I’m thinking of coming here for the moon and the sky’s reflection in the water. I’m putting together a photography series right now, and it fits the theme perfectly.”

“What about the pictures you took of the sunset?” I asked. Those, to me, seemed like they would be far more compelling for whatever project she has.

“The pictures I was taking of the sunset were for personal fun. The colors were mind-blowing! The thing is, I’m trying to develop a collection of photographs that fit a theme my teacher assigned. He thought it would be a great idea to assign themes and topics opposite of what each student usually frames their photos around. I’m sor-ry that I love color and contrast so much!” The stranger became more animated near the end, waving her hands around. The quiet we stood in seemed to be getting to her, though. She had begun to speak more softly, but never once lost her passion.

I blinked a few times as I watched her speak, not fully comprehending what she was talking about at first. She spoke so quickly that it took a moment for me to catch up. It was mildly inspiring how unapologetic she was to be ranting to a complete stranger about her personal life.

“Oh. I see.”

We stood there in what I presumed was awkward silence for a minute. Once again, she wasn’t fazed. She didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t have much to say in return, content with the silence.

I started again, “The colors really were mind-blowing. I’ve been coming here for months, and I’ve never seen the sunsets get so intense. They’re always beautiful. Rarely so… fierce.”

“I’m glad I got to share that with you, then,” she said, looking back out at the water once again. Even though that was supposedly a perfect shot for her project, I had yet to see her take a single picture.

Everything was so still.

The crickets were growing louder and louder.

“Although, I think I may actually like the view of the moon and pines more. It’s very tranquil.”

I had a feeling her life was the opposite of tranquil. She was too bubbly and outgoing for that. Maybe that was the appeal.

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. But maybe that’s just because your hair matched the sunset so perfectly.”

She gave me a little laugh in reply. We both sat down after a while and enjoyed the view in silence

The wind picked up again and I watched as the picturesque beauty of the lake dissipated, soft waves breaking the image. It was a more muted beauty now. Still pretty, not quite so perfect, but perfect was overrated.

With my long hair blowing into my face, I turned my gaze to the fiery stranger. To my surprise, I found her looking at me this time, a gentle smile on her expression.

“Do you want to see some of my photographs?”

“Sure!” I said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. We both laughed that time, more from feeling awkward on my end.

I leaned in closer as she pulled up the camera that had been hanging from her neck, glancing up to look at her face every once in awhile. The stranger spoke avidly and part of me simply enjoyed listening to her talk. Photograph after photograph showed up and disappeared once again as she explained each one. They were brilliant.

Her excitement and enthusiasm as she continued to talk and show me pictures was contagious. It slowly brought a smile to my face.

She lit something inside of me.

And everything was fire.

What comes out

What comes out

When you finally realize your whole life

You've been structured against nature

Yet taught to embrace something so powerful

That even the twisty parts

Are worthwhile in shaping your foundation

This feeling

This feeling

Has been twisting up in me for some time

Why is it that some who taught me how to love

Seem to know little about the subject which they teach

Oh they love alright

But they love what they know

What they can understand

They love

They love alright

But they love a creator

Who suits purposes

Politics

And affirmations

Of the selves they want to see

The selves society

Has convinced them

They must be

If they profess

To be great lovers

If they profess

To know my Christ

But it seems we all know

A slightly different man

And it seems

We all know a slightly different world

When did what I see

And what you see

Have to be mirror images

When did we stop shooting for the moon

And decide a satellite could be our eyes

Or that the people hurting most

Were not our family

Not our responsibility

So many help

Only the people

Who don't make them uncomfortable

Who don't jeopardize

Their reputations

Their feelings

Or beliefs

When did we stop

Wanting to be challenged

When did we decide

That a simple label was enough

To put a person

In a file in the mind

Where we never had to look again

Unless we absolutely had to

For an audit

Or a  conscience cleansing

Well friends,

My filing cabinet is a mess

My labels are in the shredder

And instead of trying to push myself

Into the square hole office

One more time

I accept that I might be round

Or I might be some shape

Geometry doesn't know about

The abstract

But even that is a label

And I don't want anyone to be that

Let's be people

Let's love

Let's look at the moon

And regain our sense of wonder

And our passion to learn

To accept

Let's free ourselves

From any chains

That bind us

From who

We t

ruly want to be

Disclaimer: This expression does not by any means describe everyone. I have had many beautiful instructors who've taught me how to love. My parents, for example, really helped me build a foundation that I continue to springboard from each day. I know that there are great lovers in all religions, faiths, and backgrounds. This describes a small group of people and a way I have come to feel on occasion. It is not intended as a judgment on anyone, but a lament for any humans out there who are struggling (like me) in the art of loving, and are trapped by their own entanglements. This is also a cry to our society to wake up and put action behind the love we profess to have for our fellow man<p></p>