Clank, clank, clank

The keys on the type writer plod on. I can feel each key press down under the pads of my finger until it can descend no further. It all just plods on. Neverending. I miss school. I never thought I would say that, but miss life when it was simpler. When there was an end in sight. Now the only end is being fired and bankruptcy, but then again being fired would mean being free. At least I can pay rent and afford food to eat. What should I cook for supper? I can feel the empty gnawing of my stomach, my body slowly eating itself from the inside out. Did I not eat lunch today? No, I had the meeting with Michael today. Wow, that feels like it was days ago. Crap, it’s only Monday. I have to prepare the document for…

NO

I said no work. Leave work at work.

This is my time to write. To create and restore. Inspire life to prevent becoming a mindless drone. To do something meaningful and motivate others. Create something that I can publish and profit from. Write a piece I can be proud of. Or at least come up with an idea for now. Something great. Something…

Anything……..

Love is not fire that can be sparked to life but snuffed out in the wind and doused in water. Fire is merely passion.

But love is a mountain.

A mountain that starts out with a rock and sometimes even a pebble that we choose to place down.

It is a mountain made up of rock after rock deliberately placed. Placed in a true smile, a chance given, an encompassing hug, a chore done with joy, a massage on a hard night, a shoulder to cry on, a late night talk, a secret revealed, a gift given or received, a treasure sacrificed, a selfless act, a call on the phone, a sin forgiven, a home shared, a meal eaten together and every small choice made for the one we love in between.

We pile them high hoping they last.

And sometimes, we only have time to place a few before the pile comes crashing down.

But sometimes, we build and build and build until we look down and notice that we cannot see each rock clearly. The rocks have broken down and filled the cracks until where there stood a pile, there is a mountain.

Wind and rain may come. They will beat down and erode the surface, but the mountain will stand strong.

Yet sometimes, we can create volcanoes. We can store up all our passions, our rage under the surface pushing them deeper and deeper until the pressure explodes and surges to the surface leaving everything nearby a wasteland. Burnt to ashes.

So do not listen when they tell you love is fire,

Because love is a mountain.

So watch out for the flames and keep laying your rocks.

Inspired by AJR “Humpty Dumpty”

Once upon a time there was an egg named Humpty Dumpty. Every morning all the eggs of all the houses would sit atop the great big wall with wide smiles and watch the sun. Every day that Humpty Dumpty climbed the great big wall to join them. The eggs would sit and smile until the sun reached its peak and until it took its rest.

Humpty Dumpty liked the wall. Everyone was there and everyone was happy. Though sometimes he felt a bit dizzy and scared with the height of it, he tried not to think about it.

One day, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. He tumbled down and down the great wall. He landed hard with a crack on his head. A scream built up in his throat, but looking up he saw all the other eggs staring down at him. Slowly and carefully, he pushed down the pain and pushed himself back up with a smile on his face.

“I’m ok,” Humpty Dumpty said.

Humpty Dumpty climbed back up the great big wall. He joined the others as they sat and smiled. He looked straight forward at the sun, not looking to the left or the right or up or down.

When he climbed down at the end of the day, he waited until everyone had left. He climbed down slower than he ever had before. He had to pause a few times to wipe his tears and stop his hands from shaking in fear, but it was ok, no one was around to see.

The next day Humpty Dumpty woke early. He covered the crack on his head with white paint and practiced his smile. Humpty Dumpty climbed the great big wall with all the other perfect eggs. His mind was consumed with anxiety every minute he sat on the wall. The wide, wide wall felt like a sharp thin wire but all the other eggs sat so surely so Humpty Dumpty pretended to too.

As Humpty Dumpty sat, he began to shudder and shake. The shuddering and shaking started small, but slowly got bigger and bigger. It didn’t take long for him to tumble down and down the wall again. He landed with a loud smack. He felt the crack on his head widen and a new one split open on his side. He opened his mouth to let out a scream, but remembered the faces up above. Humpty Dumpty morphed his mouth into a smile and rolled back to his feet.

“I’m ok,” Humpty Dumpty said.

Humpty Dumpty took his white paint out of his pocket. He covered his cracks. Even after he looked perfect again, he stayed standing at the bottom of the wall. The eggs above continued to sit. As he was trying to work up his courage to go back up, he saw a fractured egg lying on the ground. The egg wore no smile.

“I need help,” the egg groaned out.

Humpty Dumpty scrambled up the great big wall. With his perfectly painted skin and wide smile, he joined the others as they sat. That night, after he had finally gotten down the wall he cried himself to sleep.

The next day, Humpty Dumpty put on his paint and big wide smile and climbed up the great big wall. He sat next to the others, but couldn’t help glancing down at the ground far below in fear. As he looked, he saw eggs with wide ugly cracks walking below. He tried to stare ahead like all the other happy eggs, but his eyes kept being drawn down and down. The height made him dizzy. As his vision swam, he tilted sideways and rolled off the wall.

He landed with a thump. His cracks widened and a small piece of him broke off.

A hand stretched down towards him. It was one of the eggs he had seen from above.

The egg had dark disfigured lines all over its body, places it had cracked. The egg didn’t even try to hide them. There was no smile on its face, but a rather serious look. It was not very pretty. Past the outstretched hand, he could see the crowd of faces watching from above.

“I’m ok,” Humpty Dumpty said.

Humpty Dumpty rolled back on his feet by himself. Picking up his broken piece he put it back and plastered on his white paint. He plastered on a smile and began to climb. He got half way up, but as he reached up with his hand he heard a snap. His arm broke off and tumbled down and down to the ground. The rest of him soon followed.

He landed with a shatter. Humpty Dumpty splintered into a hundred pieces.

The same ugly cracked egg from before walked over to Humpty Dumpty’s scattered pieces.

“Do you need help?” the egg asked.

“Ok,” said Humpty Dumpty.

The egg smiled the most beautiful smile Humpty Dumpty had ever seen.

The streets were filled with the crashing waves of cheering voices. The boy that had started as a mere sheepherder, an unwanted child was now returning as a victorious hero. He smiled at the woman beside him and she beamed back. She reached her hand to slip into his and they walked together through the cheering crowds.

The next page is blank, the story’s end. The journey I had taken with a boy in another world comes to a close. I sit here the story slowly fading away. I stare at the bed I sit on and listen to the sound of shouting voices. Voices not filled with cheer, but anger and hidden hurt. The work I still have yet to do waiting impatiently on my desk. My momentary bliss has ended. Reality has returned.

Peace comes in the silence

Escaping the noises of the world

It’s a place to rest and lay at ease

Where nothing can distract

Then my mind comes out to play

Painting the void with imagination

Running free and rampant

Destroying and creating

Chaos comes in the silence

The colour of warmth and love

of a mother’s embrace,

and a lover’s kiss.

The colour of fire and passion

of uncontrolled rage

and raging desire.

The colour of pain and creation

of bleeding wounds

and new birth.

The colour of life

When the fairy appeared to me, she called it a gift. Only for 24 hours, she said.

I had always wanted to fly, to soar above the world and leave my problems behind, to let them fade away to specks indistinguishable from the humdrum of life. I had thought 24 hours wasn’t long enough.

It started how all fulfillment of dreams do: with excitement and anticipation. When my feet had first left the ground, I felt a surge of joy. Slowly, I had risen into the air, the breeze gently blowing me forward. There were shouts of surprise and people stuck on the ground saw me fly by, but I didn’t mind. I finally felt free. Free from the weight of the world, free to experience the unknown and my heart soared even higher and faster than my body. It was amazing...

for the first few hours, but I kept rising. When I flew through the clouds, their water clung to me, soaking my clothes taking away the lightness I had felt, but I still rose. I began to feel cold, the dampness and altitude freezing my joy. I lost sight of the earth as clouds rolled below me. I was stuck in a world I did not belong. Depthless fear filled my soul, but still, I rose.

A gift she had called it. Only 24 hours she had said, but now I understood the irony of it all.

Then I started falling.

When our eyes met, I could hear the laughter in your eyes. The gentle tilt of your head spoke volumes, but the mask hid its meaning from my deaf ears. I could only watch as you lost confidence and turned away too fast for my gestures to reach you. I’m left here wishing I could have seen what you said.

I watched her tears darken the sidewalk. The roaring cars rushing behind me drowned out my thoughts. What was I supposed to say? What could I say to someone who had lost so much? I knelt beside her and wrapped my arms around her shaking shoulders. She jerked at the contact raising her tear stained face to stare at me with haunted eyes. I squeezed her once before pulling away. I felt I needed to say something, but all I could do was shake my head at the injustice of it all. I thought she would tell me to leave, that I didn’t have a right to be there, that I would never understand her pain, but she merely nodded once and I finally let the tears fall.