For the neglected…

Life is a fight dammit. Passion swells and fades. Love touches us then wrecks us. All the little things add up to bigger things until we settle into the dust of oblivion justifiably forgotten by anyone that really mattered.

The heartless world - the careless & loveless world is forever leeching at our poor spirits. I don't know how it happens to people. The feverish comings & goings of life can make you want to bury yourself in a grave someplace, resigning to the fact that we're just lonely creatures in a world that doesn't care… I guess maybe I do know how it happens to people, but I just wish I didn't.

The slippery state of human morality saddles us with disappointment and sorrow. We listen to loud voices spilling loud idiocy, while the quieter voices don't get a chance to be heard. It's that sort of world - where the speechless complainers surrender whatever the charms of life might merit. This is the dismal wisdom of the slave and it is a superb piece of cruelty. It's enough to break your heart a little, as being in life always must.

So we might live our whole lives within that special darkness. We lock away our feelings in a jar until they disappear, then subsist with broken hearts that no longer beat. We'll grow to be a part of some tribe of the lost with their lonely faces and black empty eyes, tormented by dreams left blank and kisses left undelivered. We simply become rocks so we never touch again.

There's a wonderful comfort there, where nobody sees our real selves, but I wonder how it will end when all that's left are fading snapshots of a time that is fast disappearing from memory. Will there be any chance to mourn when the whole rotten show dries up and leaves its filthy scars upon the soul? Can we start again after the poet's words, once charged with passion, drop away to the delight of the damaged that still need love? I really wonder…

Everybody dreams. Your imagination is god itself! As we move closer to the end than we are to the beginning don't let it all become so cheap that any pureness you find is crushed as flat as road kill. The next thing you know it's time to drop six feet under into the box. While it is death that gives the world its point, it's always the lost causes that are worth fighting for the most. And life is a fight dammit!

So don't waste time blaming the misery on someone whose true name we'll likely never unearth. Pain is part of it all. It makes whatever joy left in the world that much sweeter.

Life is made of dirt you fools! And it's up to us to make something of it. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold when the little cracks spread and when words simply won't do it. Everyone needs to feel special sometimes. Like promises made and pure moments lived, we'll carry the most painful lessons in life as benchmarks. But never stop listening for the whispers of sincere possibility. One day they may come, bringing with them those lost hours of time that violate all established laws of sensibility with a love who's heart we can hold above all others that grace the earth.

The world is yours! Make us gasp, make us feel, make us live! Let conviction lead you to the edge with the charm of a heart that has forgotten to grow old. The world belongs to people who say 'I CAN' and as long as the spirit burns we belong to life!

Take a breath. Live.

-zombienose

8/6/07