It is autumn now –
the winds are not the same as they were a short time ago.
But I am fine.
I am not sure how the transition came or went or how the sun began to sink much faster now.
But like the Good Preacher says after his sermon, “as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever,” to which I say, “amen.”

My side of the world is cooling down and the four seasons are always looking to prove themselves to us in the Northeast.
We are moving away from the sun, incrimentally, and yes.
I know the summer will be back. All matters like this will return sooner than we think,
Time always moves.
Time waits for no one. Isn’t that right?

So as I look to find the splendor in the here and now, then let me exhale and expose the doubts and find some kind of soothing nature or at minimum; please, allow me a semblance of beauty.
just for now –
or just this once

Act 2: Scene 3
December, 1989.
Christmas Eve

I never had much of a relationship with God and nor did I ever have the words to speak with God. My younger years showed me a disconnect because to me, religion caused wars and fights and in my experience, what God you chose was more important than say, the kind of man you are or the house you lived in.
Religion caused a disconnect.
This caused arguments over which God was right and who was wrong
Plus –
I was a Jew . . .
And there was nothing cool about being a Jew. I saw hate. I saw swastikas and I was shown the hatred for my so-called chosen people.
And as for the word chosen, I never understood what this meant?
How was I chosen? And what was I chosen for?
And, if anyone were chosen or if anyone were truly chosen and loved by God, then why would there be so much hatred?

I keep saying that I know there is more. I know there is.
I say this often enough that even I roll my eyes and say, “not again with this,” and still, I have to say this anyway.
I know there is more out there for me.

I know there is more to life and I know that at minimum, there is more than the common items that glimmer like gold.
I know there are more things out there to see and there is more for me to say and do.
I know there is more out there than commonplace beauties, which are socially graced and picked first or noticed because of a greatness that is either flesh-based or surface level.
I know there is more.
There has to be.

Thursday afternoon or closer to the evening.
I am not sure what the time was.

I stood with my coffee like the others who await a train to take them home after their daily grind to make their daily bread. I live and I die and in-between, I work for a so-called living so that I can pay my taxes and I can pay my way and I pay my share.
I was thinking about the lopsided and the unfairness which seems apparent at times.
And then I stood there . . .
I waited for my track to be announced so I could go home, shower, eat, exercise, sleep and then repeat the same thing the next day.

I stood contemplating the days ahead of me> I considered things, like the life I have. I thought about the places I’ve been to, the life I’ve lived, and of course, I thought about the money I’ve spent.

I have seen all kinds or people in all kinds of ways, both sick and deceived and lost, searching, waiting, and hoping that somehow the answers to their questions will either come to light or be left elsewhere and unobjectionable.
I have watched good people undergo changes and become so unrecognizable in either a more spiritual or physical sense and in the end, they died as someone else to me.
I spent too much time searching for a cure. And no.
I am not alone.

I spent what seems to be lifetimes, which have both multiplied and divided the same way terrorists divide and conquer and yes.
Yes, of course.
I have been looking for an answer to understand a slow and steady emptiness.
I have been looking to understand the inferior excuses that changes the dynamic for an otherwise divided mind.
Why?

What I say now
I say without apology.
So,
I say this anyway

and I say it
play the game
and see what happens . . .

I have to say, The Old Man was right.

This?
This one was inspired by you
and this?
This led me to thinking about the way life is
or how people try to speak
and yet, no one listens to hear.
They seem to only listen
so they know how to respond.

But this?
This is for you,
The victim
The hero
The truth
And this?

And the music?
Man . . .
The music has always meant everything to me.
Or if not everything, the music has always meant something to me.
understand?

I swear there is nothing quite like the gift of sound.
And, so, should I ever lose my ability to hear,
then at least I will have my memory to sing me to sleep when I need it the most.