I remember the first time I heard The Beatles sing “and in the end, the love we take is equal to the love we make.”I was younger then. Of course.
I was much different too.
But so was the world and so was my address, so was my state of mind and my lifestyle and so were the times, and so was the people, places, and the things around me.

Life changes and so do we.
Love changes too and then again, the alterations and the changes we face can be eye-opening to say the least. The changes we experience can be partly lifesaving, partly hurtful, and partly hopeful that yes, in the end, the love we need is equal to the love we have. Or God . . .
so I hope.

I wish I could defy age and time but as it is, age and time are always going to be undefeated.
Therefore, I had to take a look into my past so that I can spring ahead and move forward.
And I get it.
I do.
This is a contradiction of terms if not a contradiction of what I say to myself when I say, “the past is gone and you and I don’t live there anymore.”
But dig it . . .
Today is another day above the dirt and therefore, so long as I am above the dirt, I reserve the right to update my thinking.

There was a quarter moon hanging low in the sky last night. My thoughts and my heart were indicative of the time and the view, which was pretty and sad at the same time.
I am amazed at the world’s beauty and how the prettiness of a low-hanging moon appears to be a gift, like a sight for sore eyes, and a present to remind me that nothing is so ugly or so desparate.
The moon and the seasons are not an enemy, only changing, and they are only reminders that we need to notice the good things that life can show us.

The yellowish part of the moon had been spun upside down and the rest was the upper part, which was more like a shadowy outline of the heavenly body.
Beautiful.

The rain made the cool winds a little colder this morning. I must have closed my eyes or maybe I failed to pay attention.
But either way, the clock is ticking.
October is on its way to a quick finish and moving like a bullet about to shoot from the barrel and explode and be gone.
November is right around the corner and moving fast.
Either way, I know that you and I are one day closer to an answer.
And whether the answer pulls us closer together or sets us farther apart, remains to be seen. All I can say is at least a day will come when you and I know the answer.

I love this time of day. . .
Quitting time.
It is another day above the dirt . . .
More accurately, it is sunset in my mid to moderate sized town in the suburbs.
I am south of Paradise and north of damned. Or more to the point and for all else who fail to understand, I am somewhere  between Purgatory and all points east of Eden.
Or maybe I am west of the infernal, depending upon the view or the time of day and the flow of traffic.

I am somewhere familiar and someplace that knows me well enough to call me “The Prince,” even though my castle has been both violated and destroyed a few years back.

I wonder . . .
Has there ever been a day or a time that stands out in your mind when you have seen your reflection in the mirror and felt good about it?

I laugh at times and think about the young man’s struggle and the games and the dating rituals and how insignificant this really is. However, at the time, I used to invest everything on the outer layers and the looks, the image, or the identity of me or the person I dated.
And unfortunately, I have to admit to my shallowness. However, and at the same time, I recognize one of my traits to which I am proud to say that yes; I can find beauty in people. 

When there is no one else around and the loud crowds from the bars and nightclubs and the afterhours spots and late night places are gone away, and when the Downtown and the cobblestone streets and the streetlamps give way to morning’s light; or when the subtle nirvana ends the music and there is nothing left but muddy puddles by the garbage bags over near Mercer Street, I’d start to wonder if I was missing out on the heroic loveliness of a much bigger picture.

There must be something better out here.
There has to be. And I don’t know if I knew what it was or if I knew what was missing. But I always knew something was off-center or just amiss.

There was a wild afternoon from my early to mid teens, which I remember oddly and somewhat funny of course, and yet I cannot say that I remember much of what happened at all.
No, this was one of those wild afternoons that I took a few extra steps to secure with a n 8-hour trip on a substance known as Lysergic Acid Diethylamide.
Yes. This was ‘the girl,” or also known as “lucy in the skies with diamonds.”
But what the hell, right?
I was young and crazy and longhaired and fit to be tied.