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.

I am certainly a witness and a watcher and above all else, I admit that I am someone who participates in the oldest sport of all time. This is a little and special game known as people watching.
I cannot say how I look or seem or appear to anyone else.
No, I do not have the right to claim any kind of special or exceptional beauty.
I am just me.
I am only a man, average in many ways, hungry, seeking and searching and at best, I am equally as confused as anyone else here in this place called Project Earth.

White lines trail across the sky. I love this.
I love how they symbolize the exhaust from airplanes that passed overhead.
This is beautiful to me.
I love the lines of feathery clouds that leave behind a provocative story of an airplane that flew to a destination unknown.
Provocative.
That’s a great word, I think.

I have not been on a plane in a while. And who knows if I’ll ever be on a flight again?
Maybe soon.
Maybe not.
But I am not here to ante up or play that hand at the moment.
All I can do is play the hand I’ve been dealt
For now. . .

I have no real memories from when I was small, which is not true to the letter but true in the sense that my memories are distorted.
I would say that my early memories are more like pictures of things which I know happened because I was there. At the same time, age and the eventual awareness of life and the emotional content of my aftermath somehow fades the accuracy of my memory. 

If that makes sense.

I was told that memory is a liar.
I agree with this.
Perhaps, I was unsure about my opinion when I first heard the thought that “memory is a liar.” 
However, life and I have gone back a long ways by now.

I have taken nearly 54 trips around the sun, which sounds like a lot to a young man.
But an elder would see me as too young to complain about age.
I know this because I have had long conversations with older friends. And they all say the same thing.
“Just wait! You’ll see.”

I understand that I say that I am being honest with fiction.
And yes, this is true.
But everything that I have put here is true.
I understand that I change names, dates, people, places and things to protect the less-than innocent, including me.
But as fictional as tis is; all of this is true.
Or better, all if this is true to me.

I remember you from the basement of an old church and how you used to smile at me.
I saw nothing to smile about.
And you still smiled.
I saw nothing to be happy about.
But you still smiled.
I saw no reason for me to be where I was and still, you smiled at me and said, “Keep coming back.”