Weight of Darkness

Excerpt from Ponchatoula, a short story:

Awakened from a disturbing dream of not knowing the true path of the past and how my hands had affected someone else's journey is both sobering and riveting to say the least. I believed that I have always been pure, but forgot, albeit conveniently, about the times that my blood had been washed away in private from the actions that I would never want exposed, never want tied to my walk. The scenes overplayed and unrehearsed in my mind continue to spin from reel to reel with an ominous metal clacking that hearkens me back to times in which the pleasure of the role justified the guilt that I feel, even today. Could I truly be responsible for increasing the pain of the downtrodden and vulnerable?  I truly did care, at least as much I had the capacity to do so at that juncture. Ashamed of her own past, she hid her home, her kin from my eyes, never believing it was enough, that she was enough. Perhaps in the end, it never truly was.

I even believed for a short while that I was making something better than it had ever been and even gestured about how my white horse would lay peace to the valley that had been riddled with such dismay, famine and abuse. My own arrogance in these moments never ceased to amaze me nor offer allowances for the certain absolution that would never arrive. However at the end of my ride, my steed had darkened, the seals had been removed, and the ashes from the torches that I lit were ever-present upon my pale skin, even at dark from a distance. As the fires burned, and screams of fear played out behind me, I rode away stopping only briefly at the stream to rinse and erase the memories of those moments. For that town, those eyes, I would never gaze upon again...never would passage be allowed back into these parts, and I would forever be remembered with disdain and regret. Alas, news stops at the edge of this village, so I had nothing to fear moving forward.

Restoring order was as simple as never looking back, I surmised.

As I now bear the impact of these misdeeds, I attempt to place weights upon the scales of justice to balance out my own feeble culpability with her own inability to recognize my absence of truth. Perhaps, we both knew where this would lead upon its shaky commencement. Perhaps, I was blinded by the pursuit of my own desires and now I seek forgiveness to soothe my aching soul and to restore balance to hers. Unknowingly, I now stumble restlessly through the night, scribing words of regret upon parchment, believing her words, now in complete earnest......

Truth only resides in the darkness. 

Truth is as rare as it is beautiful. Truth is as revealing as it is sanctifying.
Faith in its presence will truly lead you home and guide you towards forgiveness.

As I close my eyes before you, I ask humbly, please forgive me....

Director, I am.

Turning away from the well-trodden path painted so brilliantly before my immediate walk, I pause and close my eyes. I press onward, cautiously, knowing something lies ahead, but not possessing the prophetic knowledge to comprehend its revelation at this time. As I glide around a large oak tree, I view the calamity of two paths ahead broken and the immediate challenge presented. Almost expecting a pot of gold to appear, I jovially scan the low hanging limbs for a green-clad figurine with top-hat and magic wand. Alas, nothing here, but my indecisiveness on jumbotron. My life and my choices shining ever-present onto the cloth of reality, each stitch carrying the very sinew of my soul in vivid Technicolor.

Realizing the magnitude of the moment, I crouch down before the screen and watch the performance.
Separating the set and its actors from the stage and the audience isn't as simple as one might conclude.
The blending of reality and fiction is my specialty and at times, I lose track of my role and what is truly my part here to play out before the masses. Who are they expecting? What directs my performance? More importantly, has anyone even bothered to read the script?

Suddenly, I realize with immediate permanence....this performance is live. This is all my stage, all my characters, everything is exactly the way I choose.....Smiling outwardly and with a nod to my father, I comment to myself, "Henley was indeed right. I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.....Long live, Invictus!"

I stand up confidently in my new found conviction, and walk forward.

Cameras....Lights.....Action.

The stage is prepared......

"I better be as well.", I comment silently to myself.

Darkness

"I am sorry for dragging you down into my darkness tonight.....it wasn't my intention", her faint, compassionate voice resonated with shameful guilt and genuine sadness. My emotional rebuttal came forth effortlessly, "I will always meet you wheresoever you are and lead you back home...." Inwardly, I knew perhaps that I was silently worried that I couldn't handle the task at hand, nor that I possessed what she needed to regain the light so often lost here in these trying moments. For I knew first hand how the foreshadowing depths of despair can truly encapsulate your every waking step and cast away the redemptive qualities that once allowed for such unbridled confidence. Emotions now displaced and scattered amongst the tattered remains of the promises that have gone unfulfilled and left your soul as empty as the branches of the barren oak during winter's shedding.

"You are so worthy of this......worthy of everything." I reminded her with soft, supportive words of sincerity and comfort. Turning away in extended silence, I knew once again I had said too much. Never knowing where the breaking points are placed, I stride attentively through her emotions and her subtle nuances like a soldier diligently outlining the path within a mind field, striving so desperately to mirror love and not regret nor sadness back unto her life. Breaking the echoes of silence, I reached for her hand knowing full well that I am simultaneously reaching for her soul, for everything that she had left to lose in this life. I cherish her vulnerability, her willingness to be completely present, and the eternal essence of her heart. 

Likewise, I cherish the times in this darkness...for when the sun cannot shine, you must generate your own warmth, your own solace. You must become your own source of light, of direction and guidance......You must transform into your own star for which to navigate back into the light, back into what God has planned. "Take my hand. Take my heart. You have always had all of me, and it truly scares me how much I love you", her words bit down deeply into the soft marrow of my soul reminding me just how blessed I am to be here in this, irregardless of the conditions surrounding us both at this juncture.

I push forward holding her hand firmly knowing that I would lay down at the doormat of death before releasing this sacred love back to the wallows of time and regret. Assured, I feel her warmth radiating back through our coupling and know without a doubt that we will make it back unto our path....back to where this was always intended....back into the basking, healing light of love and its promises that transcend all darkness, forevermore.

Walk with me always.....through the Darkness and the Light. 

Sadly Inept.

Drown me. The incessant emotions coupled with my inability to help you relinquish your pain, paralyze my steps. Watching the cathartic burning of your past and the growing anxiety of present are almost too much to bear witness to at this point. Ineptly, I respond to your words, your pleas for understanding...for clarity and support through the darkness....

I am here. Sadly, I know that is not sufficient. 

I am here. Believing it will be just enough to keep you together...

I am here. Longing to hold you and convince you that this process is for your own healing.

I am here. Believing in you and all you are and all you are not, equally.

I am here. Through the darkness and the light.

For you, I remain here. Reeling from the waves that attempt to capsize my presence here in this place.

Knowing this is not about my walk, but the very essence of your survival, I stand steadfast. 

Forevermore, I remain.

Work Space

As I relax in peace, I allow my mind and soul to wander aimlessly this morning. Without intention nor concern, thoughts ramble through my mind like air spun bingo balls waiting to find their intended chute for discovery. Recently, I have allowed myself to grow impatient, tirelessly dependent on the future and the immediacy of decisions to be made. I must remind myself in earnest that everything is in its own time, its own season. The revelation of which will only be materialized in full when the harvest has reached its zenith of maturity and it is truly time for its glorious reveal.

My work space is tidy, my mind and soul at ease for once in many seasons....many days, many moments here in this place. The undue urgency has crafted its own sense of imbalance, its own circus of chaos in a place that should know nothing but understanding and contemplation. For when you are at one with the stream that lies before your path, you feel not the rushing of the water, nor the debris carried on its surface, but simply the flow of its movement through your soul.....through the veins of life itself and the nourishment that it restores to your spirit.

For the rain merely does not dampen the grass, but quenches the soul and its unyielding thirst...
Let it rain today on my life, my path, my tidy work space. I welcome the cleansing and renewal of spirit.

Express yourself completely,
then keep quiet.
Be like the forces of nature:
when it blows, there is only wind;
when it rains, there is only rain;
when the clouds pass, the sun shines through.
Tao Te Ching - Chapter 23

Timeless...

The aged brass patina of the fan blade anchoring the corner of my wooden desk reminds me so vividly of the  inherent affects of time and the merciless way in which it carries us all forward with its own intentions regardless of our individual aspirations. Time has also rendered it own aging to my soul over so many lifetimes here in this place. I cannot turn from the moments that excite my walk, bring fervor and meaning to my heartbeat, enlighten the silent essence of my spirit...those moments all solely defined by the sound of her voice.

Other than the permanence of the aging process, time itself has not existed in this conversation.
I could walk in her embrace for the remainder of this lifetime and still be left wanting with death breathing its final chorus into my tattered existence. For with her, all moments would indeed be worth the sacrifice, worth everything.....to bask in the glory of her love for a lifetime would exceed all other alternatives and all other triumphs and lifetimes.

As I turn to drift back to the immediacy of my current reality, I pause and feel her warmth deep within the marrow of my soul. Smiling, I know that while time has ravished so much of my sanity and structure over the last two decades, it could never touch the depths of my love for her, the reflections of which provide endless hope and meaning for the remainder of my days here in this lifetime.

I do hope in earnest that it is my last visit to this place, that my unsettled soul will finally rest knowing that no greater love could be known, no greater amount of sacrifice nor fortitude could render peace from additional travels to a place I have seen marred by guilt, regret, selfishness, despair and loneliness for far too many seasons.

My forbearing walk has witnessed far too much sadness in this lifetime.

Alas, time has delivered its judicial punishment, now we must stand and bear the consequences of our joint decisions...the choices for which have always been known since the first time my heart found yours.

I choose to walk forward with you, holding your hand through the rest of my days...
For every moment with you...will forever be timeless.
Will forever be worth all of my lifetimes...

Sealed.

Separated from my flock, I still fly.

Isolated from the path of my destiny, I still marvel at the warmth of the sunrise.
Promises made, promises broken. I have never been good at making decisions in the face of fear.

Scratching my way around this nest, it almost feels like home --- at least that is what I am told home is supposed to feel like. I stretch my wings, eager to one day reunite with truth. Is that just an aging dream of an old soul that is always going to reveal its own unsettled, nomadic plight regardless of the path? Regardless of where I stand in this life? Will I always be unsettled? Will my nest never feel like home?

Surrounded, I feel alone...
Inundated by noise, I am silent...
Warm with rushing blood, I am still cold...

Perhaps, I am truly only happy when it rains...
Perhaps, the only magic left is in my own mind.

The fact still remains that at least for this life, my fate is already sealed...
The cards to be dealt are all marked.
I sit at the table and glare impatiently at the dealer.

"One more hand", I say to myself....believing in earnest that this soul has visited for the last time to this place..