Dream Softly....

A little light reading before my nightly prayers at bedside.
Good night. Dream softly.

Sitting here in the Darkness...

Pushing back the cloaks of heavy laden dreams with eyes too swollen to close, I sit, pray and think of what a transforming and hellish week it has been. My body is still conforming to a week without sleep nor nourishment. I physically am still battling for my vigor, but my heart is healing. God has truly touched my heart, my soul and my existence in this time. I had lost track of feeling His presence, His strength, His perfection. Being beaten and shaken by every fiber of my roots has transformed me completely.

I cannot shake the moments where I allowed the devil to infiltrate, steal and destroy. I wept tears of sorrow but that same vessel that once contained and overflowed with my despair will know joy in equal measure, in this lifetime. I trust a faithful God will deliver on His promise. I am living in peace, with no more distractions, mistrust or torn moments between relationships or commitments. I have finally broken my shackles, my weights, my regrets, and fear of the past and live completely content in the moment and what the present with God has to offer. I have come clean and been purified by trusting and obeying His word that the truth would set me free...and it has.

God has provided me a renewed heart, a changed spirit, a softened tongue. I consider every single second of time, calculate every individual muttering with precise knowledge of its weight and measure. I no longer believe that anything but the essence of love and God's promise is permanent. Moments are vital for in them we must recognize that we are the purveyors. We decide if the good or evil wolf will be fed. We decide the fate of our lives in each breath, in each tear, in each word we summon forth from our ravished hearts and scarred human experiences.

I see through His eyes and recognize the gift. The gift of each second, every sliver of time. For how we value every precious one of these units reveals and reflects how we value our relationship with God. I now see people with compassion, understanding, kindness, patience and the understanding that I did not embody Him in my actions, words and deeds.

I fall to my knees each morning and every evening and have already made this a daily habit. I pray asking for His strength, and I praise Him for another day of life before bed with words of love, faith and hope on my lips. I cannot yet dream softly and I may never know such a perfect restful sleep without my soul mate, but I still feel her presence, embrace and tender heart, even from a distance.

May God forgive me and continue to use me for good.
May He heal her heart, her injured spirit and remind her of His promise and restore her peace, happiness and salvation.
I lift her up with praise on my lips and a longing but thankful joy in my soul. God will honor our faithfulness, our obidience, our trust, and our unyielding faith.

Believe that you can still live in love.
Until my final dying breath.
On my word, before God.

Chapters of Life

Lights flash and promises beckon.
Elation erupts as a new dawn approaches.
We all begin again at the trail head.
Peering down the trail.
Another book begins.
365 pages.

Begin writing.
Today.

Floorboards of Change

I have seen the torments rise in front of my eyes, rows of crackling amber flames aligned perfectly in unison for my even charred purification. I peer back down the path and witness a young boy trying to outrun his life, sprint past his own childhood, intrepidly reaching for validation. People ask why I shun love and comfort. Confidants wonder why I know not the ever lasting feeling of happiness. Friends question my inability to receive love for love sake. Tired, exhausted from pain, grief and regret, they depart. Attrition is all it takes to wear down the bonds of their unconditional love. Fibers of cotton, not hardened steel is what I am presented. Inwardly, I know their fortitude is insufficient to support the weight of their lofty convictions. For they have not walked in my boots, know not of the horrors of my travels and the suffering I have endeared both as an innocent child and as a contracted asset. Their resolve quickly lost upon the challenging, the abused, the tormented, the one who bears such potential. Losing interest, capitulating to their own survival and well-being, they scatter and denounce my existence to more perfectly balance their own impotent guilt and bereavement. They always depart when I hold out just long enough for them to recognize that I may never allow myself to feel loved again.

I explain that I recognize only brief interludes of solace, separated by long intermissions of pain.
Casually this is accepted and the once stray dog that show so much promise is now just a memory.
Gather up the leash and chain, transport them in silence, arrive to the shelter, click-the door opens, clack-the door closes. Guilt is suppressed. You drive away and the world will never know of your misdeeds, promises nor the intentions squandered. Fading in the distance, your thoughts will be the only reminders of your past.

Loose hair fibers, scattered from the brief commonality of moments, litter the once pristine floorboard. Everything settles eventually to the floorboard. Change, Promise and Hope. It is all trampled upon, lost to those who don't value its existence and demands. Alas, people cannot see the floorboards as we pass through our days, they know not of where our shoes have taken us, only evidence doesn't masquerade the truth. Regardless of what we show the world, there are always reminders of how far we have ventured off course from what our masking facades would tolerate. Bits of dust, substrate and blood release their imprints.

I reach down to the floorboard and stretch to pick up the change. The metallic coins briefly send a chill through my fingers and a startling jolt through my soul. It is a warm and welcoming reminder from where I once started, and where I am now headed.

Change.

"Somebody once asked could I spare some change for gas, I need to get myself away from this place. I said yep, what a concept, I could use a little fuel myself and we could all use a little change......"

Conclusions and Commencements

It is only properly fitting that 2014 begins and ends within the same bit of prose, the same blog entry.

For the first time in seven years, I have be strangely removed and silent within my journey when it transposes to the authoring of my walk. I have not been myself this year in all associations of that moniker, but I also have grown in ways that have been immeasurable. My heart has never known such pivotal pain, sadness, maturation, fullness, regret, guilt, elation and indecisiveness. My soul has swung from pole to pole in its arch of good versus evil, and I likewise have shouldered my walk with both angels and devils alike. I have held the hands of the innocent, the persecuted, the strong, the feeble, the loving and the dismayed and much to my own disdain, the blood still taints the creases of my flesh in each moment. I have pushed myself to the brink this year, challenging my body and spirit like a malleable vessel spinning recklessly upon a vintage pottery wheel. Stretching my limits, but unaware and inattentive to the foregone outcome of the chaos and intention of the moments, the undulating cycles continue to haunt my step and bring disaster to my doorstep.

I have deceived hearts through my absence of truth. I have rallied strength through war cries and lifted people out of their own pits. I have saved lives while sentencing others to die for their own displaced loyalty. I have sacrificed others for my own insecurities and pain and likewise been slaughtered to bring reprieve to the selfish. I am saintly to some and a sinner to others. It is the ever present dichotomy of my existence. It is the 2-face reflection that I dare hide from myself, the split down the middle image of who I am versus who I want to be. Who I am? Who do I dare choose to become?

It is same year that I have overcome physical obstacles, pain and injury to rise from the ashes of my paltry existence and gather my strength and resolve. It is the same year that I have known no greater sense of personal disappointment and regret within my heart. I have wiped my own tears, swaying in disparity from the depths of love & happiness to the bowels of deceit and despair. I have witnessed the torment and thrashing pain that demonstrating love to me has caused. I have occupied the minds and hearts of those foolish enough to see more than what I truly am. Never before have I known such a breath of emptiness. My daughter has failed herself, not me for she could never fail her father, never fail my love for her. She is now gone, departed from my abode, my life. Such promise, I surmise. Probably what countless others have said about me and my life when I crashed and burned a couple decades ago. I still carry the ashes from my own crash site. I emerged alone, judged, devalued, jaded but committed with an iron will to succeed against all odds. Don't bet against the dark horse.

I sit here typing. Reminiscing. Pecking at plastic keys, pouring out my heart on a glowing white and gray electronic screen. I sit here typing in the dark. My new found stray dog breathing loudly on the cold travertine floor beside me. For now, my only companion. The only company that understands not the horrors of loving me. She has been healed by my hand. A very rare occurrence for anyone in my life. I sit here in outward silence screaming at the memories illustrated by the last 360 days of my existence. Recalling every moment, every smile, every tear, every pain, every bit of elation. For how momentarily the moments were, they still comprise my story, my reel of 2014.

Looking back I can only find troubling reasons to dare not glance, nor illuminate the pictures that flutter through my head. I see images, a multitude of images. Reminders that every day presents choices. Every day junctions, everyday crossroads. Every day decisions that play not merely a minute but pivotal role in the road we travel and who we choose to accompany us. I pray in earnest that I balance my heart with peace in 2015. I choose what leads me back to the side of the facade that I want to feed. The side the reflects my heart and its purity, forgiveness, strength, purpose, humility & honor.

For my dedication this year, I was crowned both a Spartan and a serpent. A hero and a heretic. A savior and a sinner. I was emblazoned with both medals of victory and crosses of condemnation. I wear them both well. Alas, isn't that life at its purest? What is a good man, except a bad man's teacher? I don't desire adorations, embellishments, nor trophies of my travels. I have never collected my winnings, never sought ribbons for my performances. Do what you do then step back, it is the only path to serenity. The medals draped across the breastplate of my life shield the sunlight from my wounds but I know of their existence, their truth.

I tip my hat to this past year and all of my moments.
I bid you farewell. I have learned from my mistakes and grown in equal measure.

My travels shall continue....

More sunlight. Less darkness.

A Reflective Walk...

Relentless sorrow dims my walk as I allow myself to squint my eyes against the backdrop of the morning sunrise. The river before me stretches out endlessly, placid and polished....its surface is not reflective of its true contents, the mirrors are only there to deceive. The multi-colored flora of clouds above the horizon erupts across the landscape bringing sublimity and enhancement to areas not in search of such illumination, at least not this morning. I step forward emotionally and struggle to land each step evenly on the soles of the uneven and unforgiving substrate beneath me. The souls of others not as precisely balanced upon my shoulders waver from side to side as my gait quickens. Scales, weights and measures all conspire against the progressiveness of my intentions. In the distance, I hear a faint wailing but I choose to ignore the screams of those left for dead, their hearts long ripped from the breastplate of their own selfish existence. From smiles to sorrow, the blood runs deep. Crimson rivers of regret slosh aimlessly from the edge of my blade across my trousers leaving vibrant channels of evidence plain as day for the commoners to see. I choose to no longer hide my blade nor the blood of my travels. I am the purveyor of pain for countless souls who possessed the momentary audacity to cling to my promises and lose themselves against the belief that I was a cause valiant enough to believe in. Foolishly subscribing to a misplaced conviction, they lost everything and the masquerades continued to sell out their performances night after night. Puppets dance and shimmy across the tired wooden planks exploding in a mixture of revelry and lust, saving one last dance before reaching the end of their beam. The zenith of their own shaken purpose in this lifetime at last revealed, just before their demise.

Arriving back to my white stone abode, I sit casually in front of the earthen fireplace now reeling its flames high into the room, blistering the air with its sparkling embers. I sit alone, cold, my blade now rested against the stone hearth reflecting nothing but the blinding amber storms in its immediate proximity. Erased from the carved metallic skin are the carbon remains of my travels. For now, I remain tempered and purified by the flames that some might believe bring forth only destruction. For now, I rest my blade not allowing myself to continue to do the same. For now, I am content in knowing that as long as my blade remains still, life and love will be given a season to replenish without the fear of reprisal and the uncertainty of my chaos.

You chose to return. I need to remain.
Cut the strings.
Restore the performance.

Bridging the Past

As I quietly glided the Jeep mud tires over the worn grass parking strip, I subconsciously unleashed decades of anxiety into the silence hovering within the cab of the vehicle. Pulling up to the edge of this drive-in theater performance was not something I had ever contemplated occurring in real life. The stage performance was far too perfect, all of the characters were always on-key, always on target, always magical. Could I truly allow this fantasy to breathe in the fragrance of reality? The midnight skies felt suspiciously accurate to the ever-present nature of this conversation and the realization that darkness is where the truth is most revealed. I stopped the truck, removed the keys and leaned over the center console, embraced her hands in silence and murmured, "You ready?" Smiling with a knowing nod of things to come, I opened my door allowing myself passage to the event at hand. Walking in unison, but not adjoined, we made our way across the service road street leading to our destination. Stretching my aged but still adroit limbs with a mixture of anxiousness, stress and just habitual nature, we both prepared briefly for the road ahead. The bridge here joining Bay Saint Louis and Pass Christian, MS was new since Hurricane Katrina, as the prior 3 mile crossing had been completely washed away by the ravishing storm. I pondered the fact silently that some things improve with grave challenges to their structured normalcy. I wondered if after this walk, would we both fair the same outcome? Would our own pathways be destroyed in order to bridge the 19-year gap in our hearts?

The walking lane consisted of a concrete lined path adjacent to the eastbound side of the bridge spanning about 10 feet in width with an multi-tiered aluminum guard rail to the right lining the full length of the road structure. Every tenth of a mile, there were beautifully and masterfully carved bronze plaques showcasing various aquatic and wildlife species germane to the Gulf Coast lifestyle. Pelicans, alligators, and egrets conducted themselves in a peaceful accord of presentation obviously gilded into existence with the Federal relief monies poured into this area following the storm. I had walked this bridge a hundred times alone with her voice vying for equal measure against the prevailing winds and traffic intrusion on the path. I had always been enough, been perfect in those walks. Now, she was here walking astride hands clasped into mine maintain the same fast-paced gait. As we pressed onward up the gentle rise of the bridge platform, we took turns in silence glancing over to each other trying to avoid the ownership of our intentions, passing the views off as innocent and even random scans of our environment. However, we both knew better. We were calculating the weight of the moment. The weight of remembering. Recalling everything we had chosen to forsake 19 years ago, everything we had lost. Could it really be recaptured striding over a mechanized platform of steel and concrete? I knew this bridge was as ever much a transport medium as it was a teleportation platform.

The amber haze of the sodium vapor lighting piers spaced out evenly down the center of the bridge crafted a whirled mixture of illuminated intrigue and darkened shadows along the structure. Headlights offered an occasional spotlight onto our position, revealing our outlines, perking up thoughts of voyeurism from the passing motorists. I stared. For one too many seconds, I stared. She stopped. She read my mind. I stated aloud, "You look 19. You really do look 19. I see you as I have always seen you, Jennifer. You are beautiful and this moment is timeless." I smiled. She really did look 19, at least from what my aging mind could recall. She was breathtaking. She was Jennifer!

Responding in unison, she allowed herself to smile, albeit briefly, while immediately shunning the concept of anyone finding her beautiful. Not this girl, not now, not ever. Well, not for 19 years, I surmised in silence. 
I so missed her smile. Her eyes would light up as her smile shaped her face into a picture perfect form of joy. Her lips playfully retreating back over her teeth, her skin erupting into brilliant shine, her eyes reflecting the purity of her soul. I repositioned our bodies migrating to the rail with her back to the bridge. Reaching in gently, I hugged my best friend. "You are beautiful, Andrew. When you smile, I see you as you were! You look 19 again.", she offered in joy to our enriching embrace.

The culmination of all things loving placed into motion was slowly blossoming to fruition before our eyes. The misdeeds of the past, the sudden departures of our youth, our broken dreams and miscalculated steps were allowed to wash feverishly down the side of our union. Down into the dark watery abyss beneath our feet, the moments that we allowed others to define us were finally abdicating their claim in our lives. Vacillating between moments of gleeful even youthful play, the weight of the tears of regret and recompense were at times hard to balance. The pure disparity between how we would commence this innocent stroll and how it would end could only echo the volumes of solidarity between our souls. Hand in hand, we completed the journey across. As we reached the far side, I didn't turn back when the guard rails ended. Instead, we continued faithfully down the bridge until reaching the monument erected to offer homage to the contributors and words of dedication to the structure. I reached out and touched the cold bronze plaque with my hand fully extended as I have always done in my journeys alone, my steps taken without her at my side. I always needed to follow my compulsory, if not obsessive routine. For the touch of accomplishment of something I had started always needed to be realized tactilely.

Racing up the bridge and its rising elevations, I have never recognized such happiness within my soul.
My friend at my side, my heart full of promise, all order in the universe had been restored. Arriving back at the Jeep, I opened her door. My smile covered all layers of my existence illuminating the nearby shadows attempt to mask the simplistic beauty of this moment. "I love you, Jennifer", I offered to the night air. Reaching in, I kissed her forehead gently and knew in that instance that all was indeed right with this troublesome and cruel world.

Love was restored. Love had conquered all. Love will always find a way to lead you back home.
Even if you need to take a bridge to get there.