Prose From the Soul: In Three Parts, Yours Truly


One pole south –
This is the low point and where the hole seems bottomless
or endless
and therefore the fear of falling is real
and relevant – or therefore,
the understanding of gravity pulls too much weight,
which makes it hard to stand some times

Bit dig:
It’s not like anybody wants this
It’s not like anyone asks for it
It’s not like someone looks at a menu and says,
“I think I’ll for the ‘Depression Special’ today
with a side of anxiety (just for the carbs)
and some mild catastrophe sauce . . .
To go, please.
Thank you”

One pole north –

It’s not always a downhill slope to me.
I’m okay sometimes (aren’t I?)
There are moments when I’m okay
There are times when I can see the sunrise coming through the trees.
I can enjoy the daybreak or appreciate the colors of dawn

There are times when I am not so aware of my differences
(or yours)
I’m not thinking or better yet,
I am distracted . . .

I have this dream sometimes –
Maybe I’ve told you about it

I am in a subway station, which is similar to the one in Grand Central.
There’s a high-domed ceiling,
which is white.
There are two trains on either side of the platform
All is clean.
There is no one else around
But yet,
I can hear the sound of announcements from a loudspeaker>
Either way,
the words are inaudible and muffled,
or otherwise unclear.
And so am I (so-to-speak)

There is no walking in this dream
I don’t know why but,
for some reason, legs don’t seem to work.

My task is a choice between two trains –
two different colors.
Left or right, which one do I choose?
Either way, the choice is pivotal.
Both trains come with their own experience,
their own culture, and perhaps too;
each train might come with the regretful wish that thinks,
“I should have taken the blue one instead of the red.

Associations of blue –

Maybe this means freedom.
Maybe this means an open space,
Maybe this leads to a place
where I can run or rest or sit beneath the sky;
where I can imagine, be inspired,
be wild, be daring or be confident to be me.

Associations with red –

Maybe this is passion or call it desire.
Call this my need to love or receive love
Call this my need for acceptance
or to return this as feverishly as say,
a wild animal; a carnivore,
or an eager seeker of life
as one who in association with touch and feel;
maybe this is the path
maybe this is the way to bring me to a place
where lonesomeness is never a “thing”

One pole south – 

No one asks for the understanding of awkwardness and yet,
it exists
So do the terms of insecurity.
So does the whisper that’s louder than any scream
So does the internal voice –
The one that talks too much
or the one that convinced us to settle

One pole north –

There are times when the world is fine.
The lights are just right
The music is good
The taste of something, like say,
a cold glass of iced-tea on the first hot day of the year,
a sight of fireflies at dusk
a moment which no one else knows about
(except you) because this is too special –
but this is something from “before”
This is an entity before the anticipation
This is a lighthearted feature,
which provides hope and restores faith
which defies doubt and tells us
“Don’t settle. Ever!”

The one pole south says, don’t worry. Happiness is only temporary
The one pole north says, it can’t rain forever
But the mind between the two . . .

Man, this back and forth stuff is draining.

“Stand still.”
Are you the one who’s supposed to help me?
Is this gonna hurt?
“You’re going to feel a pinch. But not for long.”

Man –
I knew I should’ve took the blue train


It is no different for me now to say that whether we talk or think,
whether we feel
or whether we understand each other or disagree –
we still exist –
and neither you nor I can stop this.

The way we banter or go back and forth,
which is not to say that I am right or wrong
or find blame –
Instead, I see this as a case about fear
or the fear of feeling in-between
or lonely
(as in, like purgatory)
I see this as a worry about the journey
Will we make it?
Do we make a wrong turn?
Did I make a bad bet?
Did I miss the exit –
or did I miss my window?

There is no more or less
There is only this: Us
Who we are as either cosmic or intended beings
or as two intended people
who’ve inherited a list of ideas
which we’ve tried to run from
or keep away from and yet;
all the while, we never realized how close we kept the fear
because we nurtured the symptom
not the solution.

It’s not too much though
(you know?)
To think about tomorrow
To let go of yesterday
To live in the now
To enjoy or hold hands
if and when we cross the street.

To regard us and nothing else, except this
What we have
Here and now.

Between the two poles of ups and downs
We have this
Maybe we should have taken the red car
But who knows?


Two kids sitting on a dock at a small lake
The sun is up and the sky is blue
The surface of the water mirrors the heavens

I enter this as a symbol
as a depiction of two kids
hoping to be in love
hoping to be happy . . .

Two dreams
Two separate connections,
Two different starting points,
connecting as one.

One connection
One destination
One dream
One love

I am being specific  here –
Yet cryptic
Yet open
Yet afraid
Yet I want to dare
and I should dare.

I should dare it all
and give everything I have –

I want to feel they way I do
the way it is
like it is or as it is
between us two and our two poles

I want to feel it –
Especially when I hear that song –
you know the one?
“As we sail into the mystic”
I must have told you.
I swear, I must have because to me,
this is what love sounds like

“And when the fog horn whistle blows . . .
You know I will be coming home”

Or –

“I want to hear it . . .
. . . I don’t have to fear it.”

I get it now.
I do see where I am faulted and flawed,
which is fine
and yet,
whether I take the blue train or sit in the red car,

I am me. You are you
in all of our splendor

And no matter what; I’m yours
(if you’ll have me)

Painting by Benfield

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