February 28, 2010

A Hard Life, It Is


Disease destroys. Hope fades. Hearts break.

Decisions made. Consequences await. Wisdom sought. Too late.

Love withheld. Motives questioned. Trust vanishes. Years wasted.

Health ignored. Mortality faced. Suffering endured.

Plans slid. Time passed. Years age. Dreams dead.

Oneself exalted. Opportunities missed. Others hurt. Left Alone.




Sometimes when I write hard or sad things on this blog, I get dear friends both near and far writing me personally worried about my state of mind. In reality, this blog is therapy for me; a way to get out the nagging, persistent thoughts and feelings that have no where else to go. There are times when talking about them is just not enough, though I have been blessed beyond measure with those that are willing to just let me 'dump'.

They say that art is fueled, inspired by suffering, hurt. The best art is born in this place of intense pain, reaching out to the known and stranger alike, touching their heart in a place they buried long ago...or perhaps just recently. The need to express and connect with another, acknowledging commonality of emotion and vulnerability makes us human.

I have no great art to share, at least not right now. Oh, only if I had time, though. I dream of being a fabulous sketch artist, able to portray all the thoughts in my head in a simple, heart-wrenching image. But, alas, the skill is seriously lacking and the distractions steal what time there is for meditation. So, sketching with words will have to suffice.

So, don't think that I am in need of a good boo-hoo (although that may be true, actually), or that I am dangerously on the brink of a break-down. This is not the case, I assure you. It's just that occasionally, in the quiet hours of the morning or deep in the night when the house is quiet, I need to just let my fingers dance the keys and express what lies deep within; words that may make others feel uncomfortable if I were to say them aloud.

Service given. Care received. Poured out. Vessel emptied.

Crying out. Awaiting orders. Ever faithful. Praise given.


Perhaps not worthy of your time of reading, but definitely edifying to this blogger.

4 comments:

Mama Cache said...

My friend, Spike, said of his poems, "They tear coming out." But come out, they must.

Your "sketching with words" is quite a sketching, my friend -- and always worthy of this girl's time reading.

I love you. Dance.

Ari C'rona said...

Oh, my dearest of friends, your words are so worth reading. You've expressed what's buried in me as well.

Thank you. :o)

Jedi-J said...

First I'd like to say how FUN it was to read the word 'DUMP'!!! Oh the thoughts that ran through my mind hahaha. Seriously though...I have this strange feeling I know what you are talking about. I will not dare post it here for privacy reason and for fear I am completely wrong haha. Remember I am not a psychic just a crazy old wizard who feels with the force. :)

Mama Cache said...

Again and always . . . worthy. ♡