D.O.A.

It would appear that the "child's" fear is realized. "It" will be there and I will not. The summer is shot, and winter has come again perhaps never to leave. This cold icy wasteland is all that is left for me, the mind makes reality and I become lost wandering it. There will be no escaping this year, perhaps ever again, only time will tell. Time rotting away (which was my fear ironically). And even tho I put on my boots and try to "dress warm" while I now venture out I see the long dark ahead and I am frightened. I've felt this numb dullness before and sadly it is so familiar to me it is like slipping into a warm bath, if a warm bath was bitter cold and mental anguish. I pray the "child's" insecurities won't come to pass but so far it's been correct. It was correct about the seasons and that fills me with an overwhelming sense of dread of what's to come. I pray for my goddess to have mercy in this, I pray for her embrace. Because with her embrace I can even deal with this, albeit slowly but I can, that I have no doubt.

It would appear I have taken the shackle of her past and clamped it firmly around my neck. And since then I have been desperately trying to remove it permanently and leave it in the dust where it belongs. Unfortunately I am trying this in the biting cold and suffocating dark. Have you ever worked with metal in the cold? With the wind eating your face? It's not pleasant to say the least. The cold eats through the cloth making every movement painful, making new memories of pain with ever breath. And you remember, it forces you to. So much so you begin to forget what warm feels like. This is the closest I can describe this moment. Mayhaps the summer will come, with its wonderful heat but sadly I cannot see it. So until that day comes I will struggle with this accursed shackle, howling in the cold like an animal truly lost in the wander, silently hoping for goddess to show me the way up and into the light. 

All that wander are not lost

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.^[1]

I feel as tho I am to burst. My mask is slipping and inch by inch the "child" seeps through. I don't even know what's left to say or discuss, I have ground these thoughts to dust and I can see the writing on the wall so why ask for confirmation of the "child's" deepest fear?

Consider the title, it is not an Italian saying or one of any notice or fame. Perhaps "it" dug it up from the recesses of his endless bucket of high and mighty I may never know. But my goddess adores it regardless and that only brings pause. I wandered and was truly lost to the wilds of this world and it's people. But was she lost? Was she in complete control or had the understanding of what was happening and although the path was unclear the outcome foreseen? And furthermore what does it matter if at all? I don't think it does but more and more the "child" breaks free and all I hear and all that rattles in my mind is "will you ever be what "it" was?" Or "will what "it" stole ever be yours?".

Again last night I wandered. In the metaphysical of course. The dark corners of my mind have been my home when the lights go out. Which paradoxically is the time I am at most comfort, perhaps some correlation I may never know and at this point is irrelevant to the exercise at hand. It's always the same:

A wood at dusk
The rain
A pile of rocks
Them... together...
The passion...
The thunder
Half a dozen rainbows like interlocking Olympic Rings...

I wake violently and try to wash the images from my mind all the while knowing they will simply return in time. But I look beside me and feel at peace (the only peace I can seem to find along this path) within my goddess's embrace. I believe her wandering is over, and mine as well save for the journey I take on a nightly basis. And when the morning comes I am left with the "child" and it's questions and I still ponder. Hoping against hope to finally grasp something different that I may have missed, failing every time of course because there is nothing to dissect or discuss. So why write? Merely to pour out the poison that "it" gave her to drink and that myself and my stupid curiosity never ceases to purge. We both drank of the poison and now neither of us for the sake of the other will ever be rid of it. I hope these writings are not fruitless, that someday they will help rid me of this poison. For both our sakes. I realize I cannot live in the past nor should I dwell on things that cannot change but I surmise I feel this strongly because for the first time in my life I have something I cannot bare to lose. My goddess is everything and to lose her I could not even begin to imagine. I also realize I'm being selfish, for her pain in this regard eclipses my own. That is why the deflection. And again there is nothing left to say or do for the past is where it shall remain. I merely pray for peace, to put the "child" and it's fears to bed. Make no mistake I am happier than I have ever been and I think that's why I have such a hard time expelling this demon as it won't go quietly. I can only work diligently at being what "it" was not, simply working to fill any gaps and cracks "it" left with the hope that I am not a stand in or a replacement. Deep down I think I am more I just need to remind myself that I am and if not that I can be. Perhaps these writings will help or perhaps they won't. Only time will tell, till then I will continue to wander in the hopes that I am not lost anymore. For with my goddess I am home, so how could I possibly be lost?

Compound fracture

I am not used to this. Always moving, never stopping, always something. On the surface it is not a bad thing but it is beginning to wear. And then like a hurricane the "child" rears its head to pile on. All the old fears, insecurities and misery flood back. Over and over. The "child's" noise merely compounds the problem leading to the bend before the break. I am exhausted, the "child" won't let me sleep and then the day comes filled with anxiety over everything that is piled on. The same dreams mixed with the same day leads to an unending war in my mind. I need my goddess more than ever but because we both drank "it's" poison I cannot even begin to fix the broken things that reside in my head. But even as I speak the world dumps more and more all the while the "child" screams and I am left with such a burden and no strength fight off this wickedness. Please goddess have mercy for this old broken toy, have patience while I climb the mountain where your shrine resides so that I may feel your warm embrace and know that this swamp of misery will end. It seems this broken path has not yet run its course, there is still more work to do (ironic that statement). Perhaps the "child" fears for its own existence hence the volume of its discontent. One can only hope for I grow weary of  its nattering. Listening to it's poison is more than I can bare at this point, and quite frankly is the last thing I need if I am crawl from the sludge I currently reside into her embrace. Apparently the "child" does not give in to easily, just like myself ironically. But for now I must go, even musing about these issues feels like forcing oneself to vomit to ease the sickness one feels. Miles to go before sleep even tho I fear I may never sleep again. In which case it's becoming more apparent that's it's just miles to go

Here one moment...

Time is such a fleeting thing, here one moment and gone the next. We must treasure the moment because you never know when it'll fly by...

Another wasted day. Gone in a flash. I have come to the sad realization that I will never have a "normal" relationship. If the past was any indication work in its many forms will always come first. Such as is were. Things to do, places to go. Money and time to be spent but not on enjoyment. Simply spent, on to the next. Here and there no music no life just things to do. I know not to compare but the "child" screams ""it" got it all". And then I am forced to pause because... "it" did, get it all that is.

"It" got her in the sun
"It" got her in the moonlight
"It" got her attention
"It" touched her soul
"It" was part of all her life while I am shut away
Here or there "it" was a part...

And that's what scares the "child". That "it" had parts of time I never will. The summer is now a part of the year I dread with all I am. For will "it" be a part of her life again where I cannot? It's a sad state of affairs when part of your year is pasted already and now the clock ticks ever forward to it, wasting the time now, ruining the moment because all we have now is the moment and it's being wasted with work and money. "It" had all the fun with no work, now all I have is all the work and no fun. Relegated to meek fleeting moments in the dark. And I think this is where the "child" and I agree (as rare is that is), that "it" garnished something I never will have, that "it" was blessed with all of the time. And now that season has passed, for there is no more fun to be had. All that's left is the work. Perhaps that is why the "child" despises "it", for that part of my goddess's life is over and with all the fun and merriment that goes with it. All that's left is the cold hard work, ever churning and growing. Sure there will be moments but now those moments will be few and far between. If the current situation is any indication it seems the "child" is correct sadly.

But all I can do is soldier on. Try as I might to make the best of 7-2 off suit. For there still is no doubt in my mind this is the right path for both of us, the one I was destined to be on. And there is more happiness here then I ever could have imagined , it's just disheartening to know that there is no fun in the sun left, no days of melancholy and relaxation. Simply cloudy days shut in nose to the proverbial grind stone of projects and so called "improvements". I take comfort in the fact I will not be alone for this work, for my goddess is kind and any moment spent with her is gloriously wonderful. With her embrace I can do anything, even grow up and put these childish fantasies of fun freedom to bed. For I have been waiting all my life for her my goddess, and I don't intend to waste any more time regardless of the circumstances. This is my path and I must walk it and for the first time in my life I am looking forward to it.

No rest for the wicked

Do you remember in school when you were writing a test and the anxiety hits? How are you doing? How do you compare to the rest of the class? How can you calm down and focus on the here and now? This is the closest I can come to describe...

I wake up, violently. I'm drenched in sweat and breathing heavy. It's the same dream, the one that has kept me awake since... well figure it out, it's not too hard to ascertain.

Emerald woods
A pile of moss covered rocks
It is just before dusk
It is raining ever so lightly
Her and...it
Together...
passion
Flash of lightning, crack of thunder

And I wake.

I vomit this time, again violently. As if my core is trying to eject these thoughts from my body. I crawl back into bed shaking in fear of closing my eyes again for what I might see. I am so tired, unbelievably so. The "child" is cackling madly, "I told you that you were a stand in". My goddess is not here, nothing to anchor me in the midst of all these waves. I cannot wrap my head around it nor should I. The past has no bearing right? I can only hope. "She remembers"'the "child" hisses. Then I howl in agony and waken the animals, even they worry I am slipping. I need my goddess, the "child" is silent in her presence, such sweet silence. Until then, here I lay wishing for rest but finding none. Soldiering on in grim silence. Forty-eight hours seems like an eternity, but twenty- nine years was longer. Through my goddess's embrace I am lifted up and healed, it merely seems the kegare which has poisoned me for so long will not go without a fight. Then fight I must. For both our sakes.

Perhaps I will sleep tomorrow? Perhaps it will haunt me less? I doubt it. Humorously enough that is the only doubt I have these days. Till then I will stare at the empty ceiling and imagine ways to make her smile. At least I find comfort in that and even manage to crack a smile of my own at the thought. Sweet dreams my moonlight, it seems I must have given them all to you...