My Life Prior to 2007

Part IV - No Vacancy

Sunlight has finally filtered its way through my eyes and penetrated the depths of my heart. Gravity wins and has pulled me down from this cloud and I am filled with understanding. Beautiful as she may be, she was and still is an inspiration to me, but she’s not the one, at least, not for me. As much as I desire to be a part of her life and her, mine, she is young and free and like a bird soaring on thermal currents. And even though I may, at times, still suffer and struggle with her enchantment, I have found my one true angel.

2006: A Year for the Gallows

The year has drawn to a close and what way to end it by reading the news and finding out that Saddam Hussein’s fate hung in the gallows, literally. Frankly, I don’t really care, because the man responsible for 9/11 still has not been brought to justice. Our attention was distracted by a terrible Iraqi dictator and we lost focus on what the real mission was. But I’m not one to step up onto any political soapbox so I’ll step down before I trip and fall.

I mean, seriously, am I to raise a toast at midnight and graciously give thanks for ending the year with a hanging? Should I bring in a new year knowing that we hunted a terrorist but settled for a dictator? Don’t get me wrong, Saddam did some terrible things to his own people and needed to be brought to justice but I don’t think we should forget about the real problem still roaming free somewhere in Afghanistan or Pakistan. If we really need to deploy more troops to the cause, why not send them to find Osama and bring him to justice?

I would really like to see peace throughout the world in 2007 but my optimism is running a little fickle. I would really like to see our troops come home and be with their families that they love and miss so dearly. And if our president wants to leave the Whitehouse somewhat redeemed, show me an early morning headline that states “Osama bin Laden Captured and Brought to Justice.” Maybe then I will enjoy my bagel with cream cheese and a glass of orange juice.

Blog Dementia

Recently I have found myself in various realms of blog dementia. It’s an addiction that starts out slowly, grows to epic proportions, then spirals out of control. I can’t seem to settle on only one space to blog as that is not how my mind works. There are so many creative angles that I like to take and so many levels of inspiration that they have become overwhelming. By consolidating blogs into one place I feel that they wouldn’t make much sense or flow smoothly and it’s driving me insane. So far, I am pleased with two of the four blogs that I have created as they seem to centralize around a theme. Maybe I don’t understand the whole idea behind blogging yet. My thoughts are jumbled and too random but I would like my blogs to make some sort of sense to the reader. I guess it’s about time to swallow a couple Tylenol, take a deep breath and ponder on my dilemma some more.

Shaman's Prayer

Somehow I have been catapulted upward from the damp and dank filth of the gutter, lifted by light, love, desire and inspiration. Something was left or realized the day after I returned from the beautiful, enchanting beaches of the Yucatan. The more I ponder, the more I wonder if that Mayan Shaman’s prayer and the submersion in the sacred waters of a cenote somehow cleansed my soul. Sacrificing the past I have invited the future and in doing so found balance.

Even though, at times, I still feel trapped inside, the rusty bars have been removed and the air is no longer stale. Once again, the gentle wind fills my sails and carries me along currents towards sunlight that is almost blinding. My heart beats pure and I am overcome with joy, long awaited. Finally tasting the salty spray in my eyes brings me to tears as I am delivered to familiar shores.

Distractions & Decisions

Since that Tuesday night that she was over I haven’t turned on the Christmas tree lights and I haven’t figured out why. I haven’t felt this way before and I don’t know what to really think. With nothing to offer, my tainted past and subtle scars I am curious as to what she actually sees in me. And on top of that I am currently being torn in two directions between her and the muse that distracts my every thought. It’s hard enough, as it is, tiptoeing on broken glass and very painful, I might add.

Part III - Enigma

I am still finding myself inspired by improbabilities and I suffer and struggle and want more. It’s an aching, starving hunger that can only be fed and fueled by a bittersweet chemistry. She is there and I am touched and the words, like clay, are molded but flow like warm water from my hand. I can’t undo what’s already been done now that the moments are carved into stone.

She is a mysterious muse, a captivating enigma, and her beauty is relentless like the sharp edge of a sword. When in her presence, she breaks my concentration like sunshine slicing through clouds of a storm. My heart grows restless and superstitious and turns my passion into poetic rage. And remnants of her find themselves onto every scrap of paper and into every pixel of digital page. Words become strewn like tapestries on white castle walls obscuring the depths of dark dungeon halls from the past.

She has been my phoenix rising from the ashes, my angel and salvation. She has rescued and revived me from the damp and cold, the demons and shadows from every alley and street corner. Like a lighthouse she has guided me away from the rocky shore and into that of safe harbor. And without reason, maybe selfishness, I have barely gotten to know her and have been denied a friendly acquaintance and conversation. I feel as if I owe her everything but I’m running a bit late. Maybe, just maybe, I could wait a little longer.

To be continued . . .

Part II - Chimera

And if I were Superman, this girl is definitely kryptonite, and each time I am in her presence I am weak and powerless. She must have a strong realization the effect of enchantment that her eyes have on me and uses them with flirtatious complacency. It’s like staring into a vortex of beauty but once it has hold on you it pulls you in. Her smile, like a katana, finds me without armor or shield and I lose the battleground beneath my feet. The complexity in her language is clear and obscure. And so the paradox unravels . . .

To be continued . . .

Part I - Rapture

Once again, treading softly, she trespasses my dreams with early morning footprints, and I awake with sunlight streaming through the slits of the window. My heart skips a beat and I slowly loose grip on my feet as I stumble out of bed. And at that moment I know it will be another bitter cold morning that I’m stuck behind the keyboard writing what thoughts come to me, trying to sort it all out.

Somehow I have found myself, once again, falling for the impossible and complicated. I’m not sure how to harness my feelings without pulling myself below the surface with an anchor around my neck. The previous attempts at following my heart usually has me ending up drowning in desolation and self-pity and I find myself wandering aimlessly about the wilderness. And this time I have everything to lose.

But there’s something about this girl that is magnetic and purely attractive and it’s not just her physical appearance. Even though her smile and her eyes do touch my soul, like tendrils of sunlight, I still try and keep my distance, painful as it may be. I have complete respect and absolute admiration for her and I would really like to get to know her well because her personality and her life burn a strong brilliance and desire in my heart. If I could just let it all go, I would, because the stakes and risks are too great to be following what I know to be a dream.

To be continued . . .

Discovering a Muse

The book has been closed for some time now and just a few weeks ago I picked it back up off the coffee table leaving an outline of dust. So many blank pages in between chapters saddened me so I found a pen and began scribing whatever text came to me. The thoughts were stirred and the ink began flowing as if in a frenzy. Having no idea what had taken over me I wrote the following words this morning and realized I had discovered a new muse.

Secret Fire

Early morning, awakened soul and like a stained glass window
I had a dream last night through color projected by sunlight
Meandering through realms invited leaving lanterns ignited
The brilliance of secret fire harmonizing and soothing
Intricately woven, I have seen tears in rain, slowly moving
Just a brush, a touch, nothing much but then it floods
Mesmerized by a moment with a likeness to no other
From a delicate distance, appearing from an eastern shore
Stirring what emotions have befallen me, I look for more
Soaring on ruminations alone, I have discovered a muse.

~ There should be more to bind us together than tear us apart

But loosely bound secrets I must press gently against my heart ~

Absolution

I am brittle, I am bare, and the thorns are still there
But now that the snow is falling, I am sincere
The day beckons me and soon I am overcome
And on bended knee I pray with gentle words
And with pureness of heart I seek absolution
Sacrifice is my salvation, my blood, my breath, my life.

December 16, 2006
© Cordell J. Larkin

Katana

My strength rises from the ashes and forged by flame
I am shaped, bended and folded like steel, I am real
Cutting with razor sharp precision, I take careful aim
I am the heart of a warrior with passion like a poet,
Romantic like a lover and there is only one and no other.

December 15, 2006
© Cordell J. Larkin

Submerged

Opposition

I cannot hear myself think anymore and it’s not because of the music blaring out of the speakers. It’s the opposing forces waging battle on the frontline trenches of my mind. The intricate wall has been breached and I seek shelter from the stones crashing down. But I cannot, so teardrops begin to fall and bleed upon every page.

Once, there was only one, but now there are two, but in the end there can be only one. And so, I am perplexed by the flood of emotions I hold for each. My intuition whispers to me but I struggle to listen as my heart is torn in two and twisted in barbwire. As the swords clash I will be on middle ground but I’m afraid I will be the one left not standing.

Sliver of Sky

Man vs. Nature

Dream Landscape

Day 31 - The Day After Day 30

Okay. I didn't expect "those" pieces to fall but we'll see what tomorrow brings.

Autumn Pagoda

Day 30 - Today

Today is the day the pieces all start falling into place and it all comes together.

At the Tea Garden

Proof of Life

Sandstone on fire as day drops behind the hoodoo horizon
And the thrill of chill feels invigorating biting the skin
Seeking solitude you find the desert to be your friend
The stillness, like loud silence; the darkness, like velvet light
While shivering, bundled, without the warmth of embrace
The nostalgic night air tickles like needles on your face
But you find peace with a million eyes blinking at you
And as the temperature fades icicle tears come to view
You look for answers to questions, as if God only knew.

Path of Light

Going Global

Does the phrase "going global" kind of like "going postal" but just on a larger scale?

Violin Strings

Taken from the symphony, it’s violin strings for me
And I’ve harbored the shadows, deep beneath the sea
Inspired by a beauty but only on a level as a friend
An aching hunger burns relentless beneath the ribs
And as the pressure grows heavy the air begins to thin.

I’m in the vacancy of a void, a universe so vast
But once again I’m suffering from surfacing too fast
The lungs bursting into an uncontrolled rhythm
And I find myself choking on water from blue eyes
Having paid the ransom but never claiming the prize.

Like Oxygen

Her presence is so infectious that it’s like a virus spreading through every cell
And as she walks out the door, she looks back, that’s when my heart really fell
Moment after precious moment begin to multiply, it’s like storm clouds in the sky
And in her absence my breath begins to fade and I feel like I’m struggling for life
I can only suffer so much before the moments are like reflections behind my eyes.

Halcyon

I wake up in a dreamy daze and I’m still just a little bit confused
It’s bullets for breakfast again and my heart still feels abused
I’m sinking softly now and I can’t tell the fiction from the truth
Every second, every moment my tangled thoughts become absolute
It’s like a hurricane of disaster and in the eye of the storm I find you.

Restoration

A Game of Roulette

There’s a fracture in the sky, a rift in the sun
Like a manufactured eye, a bullet in a gun
Stumbling on ice, the cleats you abandoned
You made the sacrifice but wish you hadn’t
What is inevitable is intolerable
And it’s like a game of roulette
However, nothing gained and nothing left
It’s like shooting from the hip
Biting tongue with blood on the lip
And without it you won’t survive
Fast forward, backward in time.

Sometimes the emotions hit you spontaneously unexpected
And you fall to your knees with tears in your eyes, unprotected
The bullets whizzing by with a hissing hum
The ballads kissing sky, still you’re missing one
An emotional void with an enigma, you infatuate
You delicately suffer, you embrace, and you find your fate.

Looking in on Time

Supernova

You brighten a dreary day with your smile
Even the mightiest storms bow at your presence
And in your eyes, a brilliance like a supernova
Keeps the winter chill at bay with your essence.

Hotel Window

The Vacancy

Call the Exterminator

I'm trying to turn over a new leaf but the termites beat me to it.

All Things Beautiful

There is a beauty in the depth of her eyes
Reaching beyond where the horizon lies
Her smile finds my heart and fills a void inside
But I can’t love her even though I want to
Because my love goes unrequited, say goodbye
But maybe someday and with the passing of time
I will once again gaze upon those emerald skies.

Her beauty is breaking me
Her eyes are taking me
And I can’t move on
Because I am a fool
I need to say goodbye
But it’s not that easy.

The Hotel Meade

The Lookout

The Front Porch

The Ranch

With or Without You

Like Poetry

She is poetry, she is light
She is breath, she is life
She is the stars, she is the sky
She is like the endless time
She is beauty, she is grace
How could you forget that face?
She is nature, she is pure
Like water and like a cure
She is touch, she is peace
And sometimes likes to tease
She is elegant, she is wise
I’m taken away by her eyes
She is poetry, she is light
She is breath, she is life.

Spiral

Secret Fire

Early morning, awakened soul and like a stained glass window
I had a dream last night through color projected by sunlight
Meandering through realms invited leaving lanterns ignited
The brilliance of secret fire harmonizing and soothing
Intricately woven, I have seen tears in rain, slowly moving
Just a brush, a touch, nothing much but then it floods
Mesmerized by a moment with a likeness to no other
From a delicate distance, appearing from an eastern shore
Stirring what emotions have befallen me, I look for more
Soaring on ruminations alone, I have discovered a muse.

Smooth Silk

Pale Moon Rising

The Troubled Artist

Behind a pen or behind a lens it all depends. I'm just trying to mend and comprehend everything in life.

Intrigue and Separation

The one thing you can’t have is kept so close
It’s like static in the back of your mind
You embrace the thoughts with overdose
And like springs in a clock you unwind.

You forget your shadows and let light in
It’s just one small cut that you can mend
You are committed but there is no crime
But you find yourself falling hard this time.

Captured by brilliance you become intrigued
Those emerald eyes, enchanting and rare
Stare back at you with innocent stare
And her whispered breath is like melody.

You fumble for a set of words to find
You stumble to let the strings untwine
But let’s be more than honest here
Complacency is not choking on fear.

You are entranced by personality
Gravity pulls and you can’t break free
That smile, that laugh, like immortality
It’s driving you near the brink of insanity.

And in these many words you try and confide
But you seek safety and shelter and try to hide
And you try to live with the pain of not knowing
But you can’t keep curiosity from growing.

Point in the Road

No Smoking

Usually I don’t observe the small everyday things that make life more interesting and entertaining. This would be the beginning of a long line of exceptions now that I am more in tune with my surroundings. Sometimes it’s the little observances that make you consider the genius of others.

I’ve taken enough commercial airlines in the past few years of traveling to know the safety rules and regulations aboard the flight. The captain graciously flips a switch that illuminates the buckle up and no smoking signs above our heads. Putting faith in a seatbelt would really save your life when you’re plummeting to the earth from 40,000 feet above the earth, traveling at a mere “Holy shit, we’re all going to die!” and the fact that gravity really is a bitch. But buckling up is not the real reason I’m writing this.

I was recently on a return flight to Salt Lake City from Cancun with a transfer in Denver. Why I ever decided to leave Mexico is still beyond my capable comprehension in the first place. Anyway, I don’t fancy using airline lavatories unless absolutely necessary. First off, just because I’m deli-sliced thin doesn’t mean I’m a contortionist. It’s just that I’m a centimeter shy of shaving my head on the ceiling of the lavatory. Second, have you ever flushed the toilet while in flight? Heaven forbid, if you’re a guy, and you’re sitting down with your jeans around your ankles and on accident you push the flush button. Say goodbye to the kids as the one thing you would never want to lose gets sucked out from between your legs. Really, how would you explain that to the flight attendant when your face is pressed to the floor and your legs are in the air?

Remember one thing while I am explaining my experience on my flight. This plane was fairly new and probably built within the last 10 years. How long has smoking been banned from commercial flights? While sitting on the john I was observing the elaborate architecture and elegant artwork found in the common airline lavatory. The floor tile is exceptionally exquisite, by the way. I noticed that there was a no smoking sign on the door and above the mirror. I can’t really remember how it was stated on the door sign but it had something to do with a lavatory smoke detector. But the biggest riddle was right below the sign. If smoking is prohibited onboard all commercial flights at any time, why on earth would an ashtray be installed on the inside of the lavatory door?

This experience (observation) may not seem amusing to many but I thought I would share it anyway. Maybe they should think of installing passenger airbags on all airlines. It might cushion the initial impact when the plane has a minor fender bender with the side of a mountain.

Reaching the Summit

Gracious splendor above billowing clouds
Across the lava flows and into the heart
Desolation leads to depth and humility
On top of the world where heaven starts
The lungs ache but the soul breathes
Above rooftops and above the trees
Seeping into rusted veins like poison darts
Where birds of prey find their tranquility
Tears come like rain and slowly you take part
Peering inside, what was lost is now found.

Desolation Road

Life in Desolation

Mojave

I’m alone on a highway
Where the sun melts asphalt
Like a drifter on a desert plain
Just a mirage on the horizon
Desolation is a place without rain.

Joshua offers me little shelter
Without hesitation I humbly oblige
Sinking into the shade and sand
My hope flutters, leaving me with
Nothing on which to stand.

Parched lips, choking on fear
Sunburned and blisters peel
Slide with every breath of life
Sleeping with ghosts again
My only will is to survive.

Calm

The Desert Perspective

Do you ever feel like a few pages short of a full chapter and find yourself wandering near the shoulder of the digital highway thumbing a ride? Do you often find yourself drifting with the currents without an anchor or harbor to call home? Do you find tranquility, alone in the wilderness, or do you find yourself standing on a busy street corner without an umbrella in the pouring rain? Do you ever feel like an arrow that hasn’t taken careful aim? Have you reached your apparent horizon or have you even dreamed? The final destination is still a ways off so tie your shoes, start walking, and make some memories along the way.

Unraveling

I’m living by a motivation and realization of truth
I’m dying for inspiration and that inspiration is you
The lanterns have died and left me alone with night
And the vacancy you leave is like a strange déjà vu
I’m starving for touch but that doesn’t make it right.

When I look into those eyes of innocence I see
That you’re too young and that’s what’s killing me
You awaken something deep inside an aging heart
But I cannot speak the words, no longer can I breathe
And now that the secret’s out everything will come apart.

Golden Arches

When Stars Collide

When stars collide and no longer guide you
If the darkness were to surround and blind you
If storms would subside and the sky turn blue
And if the world were to die I would still find you.

Starving for Touch

Starving for touch, really not wanting much
Finding myself at the mercy of Orion
The shimmering silver light keeps me up at night
And those unforgotten wishes blown by kisses
Have now sprouted wings and taken flight.

Generations

Far above the atmosphere and through the many passages of years of light
Far beyond the imaginative boundaries of extraordinary human suffering
A thought, an idea, a dream, transcending all universes across the horizon of time
In the minds of simple men, a creative realm founded by poets, expounded by artists
A dawn of emotions portrayed and painted upon the finest parchment and canvases
Timeless masterpieces fought and arranged by men who have seen beyond the masses
Forever instilled on granite shelves, sometimes in catacombs, drenched with dust
Caressing fingers have not recently walked through the leaves of aging timber
And footprints are seldom seen treading down these forest corridors of timberland
Now shadows and misty lights hover, obscuring the eyes that fall prey to their beauty
And the hardbound secrets are unleashed to those intricate minds that hold the key.

Aging Timber

Shadows and Sunbeams

Touched by shadow, sheltered from light
Aimlessly wander through cold winter night
Forgotten I’ve traveled along roads less graveled
With half-closed eye, without dawn in sight.

Touched by soft skin, bathed in warm light
Passion rekindled and sparks ignite
Thoughts unravel along this road I travel
And with her hand in mine I’m just living life.

Akumal Sunset

Apparent Horizon

ho·ri·zon : the apparent junction of earth and sky - called also apparent horizon

For numerous hours I have been sitting behind a desk glaring at the glowing pixels of a computer screen, listening to music, and pondering with a whirlwind of thoughts. During this excursion of mental saturation I decided that I needed to create, with little effort, yet another new blog that would be used to showcase my creative dabbling in poetry and photography. The burden came from choosing a suitable title that would somehow capture the attention of internet addicts and the occasional blog reader. Little did I know, at the time, creating such a title would turn into an unintentional headache.

At first I started wandering through pages of the dictionary to get the day old rust bucket brain oiled. A few words captured my attention so they were noted on the canary yellow paper of the brainstorming legal pad. One idea would spark another so that I would have to hurry and refer back to the great book of Webster before another idea would get lost in the slipstream. Many symbolic and metaphorical titles were formed but did not satisfy the content of my new blog.

Then I thought of a word that has been stuck in the wheels and cogs for a few days. I decided to turn to the dictionary and look up the word horizon, not that I don’t know what it means, I was just curious. The definition stated: the apparent junction of earth and sky – called also apparent horizon. That definition had a symbolism that I could personally relate to. To me, it meant the junction between truth and fiction, reality and fantasy.

Somehow, the title “Apparent Horizon,” just seemed fitting since life can consist of a harsh reality and an escaped reality. It’s at the junction between these two that we can find balance in ourselves through literature and art. And through this process of writing and capturing light I hope to find that I will never need to enlist the help of a psychologist.

From Beginning to End

A glimpse, a smile
It’s all I ever really wanted
But now the moment is gone
It’s like darkness touching light
Imagine the silence
Forget the footsteps in the sand
They have vanished
Along with the dreams of night.

The Rusted Lantern

Sometimes . . .

Sometimes you don't realize how fragile things are until they break so you end up wandering through life with delicate footsteps. You regret the past and try not to sacrifice the future but unfortunately you have already slipped on the ice and slowly begin to fall. You brace yourself for sudden impact not knowing which way you'll land. With no longer a cushion beneath you, you accept the inevitable.

You can no longer hide from your reflection. You can no longer whisper without screaming and ultimately you have become your own enemy. You don't seem to suffer the consequence because emotion has escaped you. You must live with your demons even if you don't want to.

The Guys' Rules

Today is my father's birthday and has reached the young age of 62. This is not the first time nor will it be the last that his birthday has coincided with election day. He forwarded me an email that I thought I would share concerning the Rules of Guys since all of you young ladies seem to have a set of your own rules. Disclaimer: Don't judge me telling me this is why I may still be single. I just seem to be comfortable that way and I find that this set of rules so very true and humorous at the same time.

The Guys' Rules­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down. Finally , the guys' side of the story. We always hear "the rules " From the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side. These are our rules! Please note.. These are all numbered "1" ON PURPOSE!


1. Men ARE not mind readers.

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon Or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

1. Yes and No are perfectly Acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem only If you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem See a doctor.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 Days.

1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't Expect us to act like soap opera guys.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. You can either ask us to do something Or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible , Please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not A color! Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will Be scratched. We do that.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, Expect an answer you don't want to hear.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear Is fine... Really.

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as baseball, the shotgun formation,or golf.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. I am in shape… round IS a shape!

1. Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight; But did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.

Undeniable but Unsure

As the city sleeps and the stillness of air is present, silence becomes my ally. After being passed out on the front room couch four hours longer than originally planned I find myself awake but still in trance. It is at this precise moment that I realize I haven’t shaved in over a week. Where has time gone and why won’t it wait?

I remember shaving the morning prior to my leaving to Mexico but since that moment everything seems so surreal. I guess that is why I am still wearing the attached fluorescent green wristband on my right arm that I received when arriving at the Akumal Beach Resort. It and the irritating itching stubble on my face are the only reminders that I have not been dreaming since the Friday before last. But why is it that I feel that nothing has transpired since then?

The photographs and memories are vague but I know I was there. I have undeniable proof. Airline ticket stubs and a passport stamp all prove that I was there but why does the experience feel so vacant? What is it that I am missing? Why can’t I feel something other than a yearning to feel . . . something? Does that make any sense? The questions seem to make sense but the answers are obscure. I guess I will have to ponder longer.

Day 1 - The Beginning

Do you ever find yourself, once again, trying to start from the beginning because you've found yourself facing another dead end? You want to be free of the past so that you may find a meaningful and peaceful future but the wall that you've built around you obscures your view. You feel safe and comfortable behind your curtain that dreams almost become painful and unbearable. It's like standing on the edge waiting to jump but fear freezes every muscle. You only live once so what are you waiting for?

It's not that easy. Right? Your past will always follow you no matter if you're running or standing still. Why can't the leap just be the change in life you're looking for without all the strings attached? Why is it then, when the slate is wiped clean, residue is always left behind? These are all questions that have arisen from the fear of wanting to make a drastic change in my life.

We follow only one road but end up down many side roads along the way. There is only one beginning and only one end to this road we travel. I would like to think that I've been traveling down one of those side roads for a very long time and would like to find my way back. I have grown weary from my travels down this road and the dark vacancy that it has inflicted upon me.

Something has sparked and rekindled the ember inside and it has grown vengeful. Some of us walk through life without regret but others carry the burden and become slaves to it but I intend to toss it overboard. These regrets have fueled my rage into an inferno of combustion. The patience I once embraced has been extinguished by an atomic lust for balance.

Without any doubt, I believe what I am looking for is out there. Love, peace and balance are on the edge of the horizon and I am setting a course to reach them. With the anchor lifted, the sails unfurled, and the compass set I am on a journey that will hopefully take me in the direction where fiction and reality are one. And yes, my yearning heart was somehow left behind on the Riviera Maya of Mexico.