It is no more out of the question for you or I to revisit where we used to be than it is for us to question what made us go our own separate ways.
And still, I look back.
I think back about the days before stress took place. I think about the feelings that come when we are young and free and nothing is so critical or so important that we have to divert our attention to anything that deviates us from our path of personal redemption.

And what does this mean?
What does it mean to be redeemed or to find redemption?
What does it mean to lose ourselves and find what was lost, enough so that we can both redefine what it means to live life or to be young again.

The funniest thing is that I swore I would never grow old. Then again, this is something that young people say.
Or so, I suppose.
I swore that I would never walk the line or conform or be like the people I knew who became part of some kind of system that seemed to be lifeless or draining.

I never wanted to be the kind of typical 9-5 person who raced to get out of the front door and make it to work on time. I never wanted to be “that guy” while dressed in the typical or usual business attire with a newspaper tucked under one arm, a Styrofoam cup with hot coffee in the other and a briefcase in tow.  

I have loved these days, though gone, years ago and folded away as if to be placed in little folded envelopes to keep in my inside pocket of my so-called vest and keep them as keepsakes.
This is my worth, right here.
And yes, this is all I have now.

I have these moments of life when the sun was high, the wind was warm, and the feel from the ocean at my feet was enough to leave me with the feelings of satisfaction.
But to add, I have more to this which is far deeper than what the surface mind would catch or understand.
And so, if you wouldn’t mind and if I can lay down my mask and shield and put my swords away, I would like to share my softer side.
Or more, I would like to show you what I fear most and never dare to show anyone.

And so,
I don’t suppose that you meet many people in your life who take part in such a way
And so,
I suppose it would be hard for anyone to subscribe to the idea that heroes are real and that Angels can, or will, or that they do exist and appear to us, here on Earth.

And so,
If you don’t know then my guess is you can’t know.
You wouldn’t know what it feels like to be rejected or unwanted and then, somehow, someone like the above comes to you with no agenda other than to let you know that yes,  you do matter. 

I miss my walks. . .

I used to take these walks for a reason
I love the way early morning looks and how the sun comes up. I love the emptiness of the quiet streets in my town, which was otherwise sleeping at daybreak.
I love the way my feet felt when they hit the pavement, as if every step had its own individual purpose and yes, each step walked with intention.
I slammed my foot down as if to be determined, and I was more determined with each step.
This was great!
I swear.

This one goes out to all of those “overthinkers” out there
And this goes out to those who sit with their personal plagues and overthink their way into quitting before they even begin –

Write on, Poet.
This is my best advice

Snowfall.
This is the first significant one
of the season,
I assume today would be better spent
if I spent it where I want to be
instead of spending it here.

Today _
I go back to the roots of my dream
Poetry

and . . .
so . . .

I start with this –

This is written as somewhat of a mission statement.
So, I will understand if you choose to abort this now.
Then again, this is not your mission.
Not by any means.
So in fairness . . .
Your participation is not necessary.

I offer this as a personal interference to which I am intercepting the off-putting ideas of self-doubt.
Therefore, do not give up.
If the word never is real then so is forever.

This is to you, Ma . . .

I know . . .
. . . it’s been a while.
it’s been even longer since we walked or talked
or had the chance to sit and eat.

Mom.
No one knows what it’s like.
Or no, I assume that no one could know what it was like for me, or for you
But we do.

We know of course because we both lived through what we lived through.
And such is life, in another lifetime.
And though he changed the scenery and Act 1 became Act 2 and so on, time will always be the undefeated winner because time waits for no one . . .
“. . . it passes you by.”

The funny thing is I don’t miss much about my so-called yesterdays.
Least of all, I do not miss the times or the memories that no longer seem to benefit me.
So much has happened.
But yesterday is yesterday.

I am so far removed from who I was, regardless of how close I’d like to be
Or maybe it would be better to say there are parts of my past which seemed to have happened in another lifetime.