I remember him now with the wind in his hair,
the sun was high, like it is on a mid-August day,
and the winds were warm,
or warm as ever because of the warmth in my heart.
The sky was clear,
and I was nothing more than a little boy,
wading in the water
and knee-deep in the bays of my youth.
I remember this:
fishing with my Father,
The Old Man.
What a story this is to me . . .
There is nothing like a Mother’s love
There is nothing as strong or as ongoing,
or unconditional, or so it should be,
at least in the right life
or during the right circumstances
of course.
Mother, as in all directing,
as in always connecting,
always thinking
and always looking to care of say, me, for example,
the young one, or should I say
the youngest son who, of course,
was different from the rest of the pack.
I have seen the sun come through the clouds
when the sky is otherwise rainy
and yes, I have seen light shine
where otherwise
there would be no other way
to see light or to witness the shine.
And yes, I have been to bad places
or seen darker times and even still, somehow,
I have found that there is this unstoppable thing,
or this unwavering force,
and unrelenting to,
to which this keeps me alive
and moving and hoping and thinking
that somehow,
I just have to get through today.
It is raining in NYC
But, I don’t mind.
Not at all.
I don’t mind the rain.
I think it’s a good thing.
I think it’s good that the rain comes
At least to, me.
I know that it’s easy to see . . . .
It’s easy to see all of the things that can go wrong.
It’s easier to find the problems,
and often, it’s easier to note the problems
than it is to find the solutions, and man . . .
sometimes, it’s hard to see the sun
because the clouds are in the way.
Maybe the focus shouldn’t be
on Chaos anymore.
Maybe the focus
should be on something else,
or something new
like the first light of morning,
or when the sky starts to change,
and dawn begins to break;
the birds are chirping
and the world is sleepy
and quiet.
I love these moments
because the day is still young and innocent
or, perhaps maybe less-guilty,
depending upon the thoughts we hold
from the days before.
Now, here’s the reason, or perhaps I should say
this is another motivation
behind this journal.
The mind is the real trick.
This is how we lose to the different concepts
of thought; in which case, we can literally
think ourselves out of the best scenarios,
at least
I think so.
And the emotions we have,
well?
What about them?
Nothing comes the way they used to.
And this is not to say about the way things are
or how things have almost progressed
into some mindless way,
or how people seem to overlap or intersect,
yet, no one takes the time to notice
or to look up from their cell phone
and no one takes the time to look away from their technology,
at least not long enough to notice the signs
or to see which way the wind blows,
or how the sky looks.
I have a question,
which is plain and simple, really.
It is direct as direct can be
and although the answers might not
be as obvious
or as easy,
the question is really simple.
How does this work?
I think that this is a fair question.
Don’t you?
I think this question is fair to ask
and yes, I think this is a question
that can take off in different directions.
I never had the chance to be young.
You know?
What I mean is,
I missed out on things that are important
or part of youth because somehow,
I was tricked
or robbed in a way
that I believed in the inaccuracies
and the varying concepts
of love,
or the lack thereof.
I never had a prom or the basic rites of passage,
and to some, I hear that I am making a big deal
out of nothing
but to them, this is nothing.
To me, this is something.
