The Rose - A Short Story by Moe (2012)

(...hold me close and hold me fast...the magic spell you cast...)

A man awakened in a beautiful place one day. This place seemed to have an aura of peace...of ease. Everything was beautifully green and new. The day was clear and sunny. The trees seemed to sing along side the birds that flew nearby. The streams sounded an "easy motion" and even though he wondered how he got there, suddenly...he just didn’t care. He was just happy he did. He found himself untypically groomed and well kept...as were his surroundings. He marveled with delight at all around him. Everything he saw in that field produced a warmth in his soul. So he wandered to explore. As he wandered, he saw an open field and at its center, the most beautiful rose he'd ever seen. Softly approaching this rose to pluck it for himself, he noticed feelings of ease and warmth intensify with every step. With every motion towards this beauty, he felt at peace...at home. Knowing in his soul he had awakened in that place for this one thing...this beautiful rose. He gently grabbed it and was slightly pricked by its thorns...its beauty causing him to think nothing of it. He saw some blood but nothing worthy of alarm. The rose was a perfect addition to his attire. This tiny addition made him one with his surroundings.

As busy as this man usually was, he found himself at peace for the first time. He had nowhere to go and nothing to do. The fragrance of that rose became his friend and as long as he took in its essence, he was fine. After a long while in his newfound paradise, he had decided it was time to find his way home and he would not be leaving his rose behind. He wasn’t sure how he would get there or when; he just had a sense of direction...albeit unclear and unknown to him. As he braved this new path, he always found the time to look upon this rose and take in its fragrance. He had kept it in a special heart shaped handkerchief made specifically for his beauty. Housed in the pocket of a belt that came across his chest so as to keep it close to his heart. It seemed to thrive on that alone. He watered it and let it out for sun but it seemed to do just fine in that pocket. As though it’s main sustenance was his heart, even as the days and nights began to grow heavy on him...his rose remained the same.

As his journey continued, the days grew darker. The peace of that place faded as he knew he was drawing closer to home. His reality began to surround him. The peace of his newfound paradise was gone. The trees were suddenly bare. The streams now rushing and loud. In that moment, something happened...his once bright eyes became black. He reached for his rose to find ease and now noticed the thorns bigger. He saw blood oozing from his hand where a thorn had once lightly pricked him. This enraged him and in a fit of anger, he tore off part of its stem. Placing his rose back in its place, he carried on in despair until a clearing came. His heart grew lighter and his eyes regained their color. With his world now making a little more sense, he reached for his beauty and what he saw perplexed and saddened him. It smelled the same and gave him the same peace as before but what was once a long stemmed beautiful rose was now damaged...damaged by his anger. What perplexed him the most was why he had done such a thing. He looked at his hand and saw no blood, only a tiny scar left by a tiny prick. He looked at its thorns and saw them just as small as before. Again and still...unworthy of alarm. He wondered why he saw what he saw that made him do what he did to his beauty. Perplexed and saddened he carried on. In time, he would forget what had happened...until it would happen again.

Just as before, as his world grew darker so would his eyes. He would see more blood. He would feel larger thorns and in anger, damage another part of his rose until another clearing came...clearing his eyes as well. He began to wonder why this beautiful rose that gave him such peace would hurt him so badly when the days grew dark. He had imagined this rose a blessing at one time yet now considered the possibility it could be a curse worth discarding. Resentment grew in him and he had decided to sever himself from his curse. He decided to return it to the place he had found it. He was finished trying to make something out of what he now considered a burden. Backtracking his steps, he noticed something strange. In passages that once darkened his eyes, where once his curse would appear...all he could see now was that although the skies were dark, everything else remained the same, including his rose. These overhead storms he once passed through, didn’t affect him the same. That’s when it struck him. An epiphany that brought him to his knees...

He beat at his chest and pulled out his rose in agony when he realized the truth. That all he had done, all his damage, all this carried resentment was based on nothing. The darkened paths he had gone through had altered his sight. The blood and the larger thorns that enraged him so much were all he could see through his darkened eyes. The even darker truth? They really didn't exist as he saw them at all. As the sky would grow dark, he would allow it to affect his vision so much so that his surroundings and even his rose became just as dark...just as worthy to be called a curse as the sky itself. Although he knew the truth now and was penitent...resentment, albeit false, had set in. He now faced an internal struggle...

Boy: "Dad, what does this story mean?  I don’t get it..."
Father: "All you have to remember buddy is that at one time or another, throughout our lives, we will either be that man, the rose...or both" ;-)

(Fade out on Satchmo's Trumpet...)

~Moses Apollo

The Art Of An Understanding Soul...

"...Don't only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets; art deserves that, for it and knowledge can raise man to the Divine..."

Understanding has lost its essence over time. An essence powerful enough to allow us to see through sympathetic eyes and sometimes even deeper still...with empathetic sight. People have confused understanding with knowledge...two very different things. Why? Because sometimes knowledge is needed to begin to understand. The problem is that people have stopped at knowledge. We hear a position and never ask why they've come to that position. Folks, understanding is the ability to place yourself in the position of another. In this position you then have the ability to judge yourself as opposed to the person you are connecting with to come to a better conclusion on any given argument or stance. All based in their own view of the world. It doesn't mean that you will agree with their stance but at least you will come to understand motive and king of all...intent.

Yet what has been lost in this era of identity politics is the need to listen. When an individual is categorized as belonging to any group they are then judged by the mold the group or others have set aside for it. Using this mold, there is no longer any need to seek out the heart of the individual. The individual's heart becomes unnecessary and is then categorized as an enemy, ally or friend without ever knowing a thing about them. This has to change if we are ever going to bring love in truth...back in style. Loving without understanding is always doomed to fail. Not everyone you disagree with is evil.  

When dealing with humans that see things from the same vantage point such as loved ones and/or people that share your culture, all that is needed is to simply take the time to listen. As you do...you can place yourself in their position because you both live in the same sphere. You can then from a place of understanding, be able to provide tailor-made answers, council or help as opposed to cookie cutter responses. When dealing with humans from other cultures or religions, you MUST become knowledgeable outside their biased influence to see from their vantage point first. When you begin to listen, you can then place yourself in their position based on their vantage point. When you don't, you begin to judge using your vantage point which is a huge mistake. Many make the mistake of judging other cultures and time periods based on their own and always come to the wrong conclusions. Such are they that choose the see the barbarian through civilized eyes without understanding the barbarian sees this as a weakness. They never thought to understand the barbarian enough to come to a better conclusion. Step outside yourself...learn.  

Doing this, you will be able to understand your lover, your children, your friends and even your enemies. You will understand who is being honest and who has an agenda. You will see the redeeming qualities you can use to bypass disagreements. You will hear their soul and see that they may honestly be confused, uninformed or steadfast in seeing you as an opponent. You may even come to find that you are the one that is mistaken but more importantly, you may come to pleasantly find that your issues aren't anything to hate one another for.

Without understanding there can be no love, trust or coexistence. Re-learn what it means to listen. Re-learn that relationships must be built on trust based on the truth of the individual. Re-learn the importance of this because without it...we will always be fractured into petty wars. I was never a man that was fond of the bubble life. There is no challenge and consequently...no growth. There is nothing new to be discovered. There is only you and others like you. In every soul, I like to believe there lives an explorer. Don't just look to distant lands but learn to discover your own soul and others. Bubbles are boring my people...get out and breath air you've never explored. That may be in you, your lover, your friend or even the God you've read so much about. Start there and learn to listen. Then maybe you can come to understand those you disagree with. Always be better...much love...

~Moses   

Conversations With God - A Poem by Moe

"...have I got the gifts to get me through...the gates of that mansion..."

come turn me in and out to Thee

till mirror sees Thy face

oh raise my voice and speak to me

till fraud has shown no trace

for hidden are the pains of souls

that lie till they are bound

thus let all truth reveal controls

that freedom may be found

oh grace my quill with all that's real

this tender and my crude

that speaking truth would soon unseal

what's kept all breath subdued

~Moses Apollo  

The Rose That Never Dies...

"...still believe the best is yet to come..."

Sunrises and sunsets that can captivate eyes adorned by grace pale when compared to the love of a good woman. Sincere eyes that soothe. Hands that cup all care. A lap that can reassure the war weary mind. Lips that temper thirst and a symbiotic passion that cuts through every temporal wall.

The template left by heaven for love is this thing we can't seem to quantify because it's beyond our comprehension but sometimes...we're close enough.

"The young king gently asked his love: "Woman, my world is full but I love you and that is worth the effort it will take to expand my world for yours." "Is your love for me worth expanding your world for mine?" The young king went home alone that day"

Sometimes close enough. Sometimes...not enough. Even if it is a one sided endeavour...it's still worthy to be glorified. When it's real...it's eternal. The rendered rose that never dies. Live, love, lose, love again...live...

~Moses

Vision...

"...waiting...waiting outside the lines..."

The year was 1990...I was 16 years old. I wrote one of my very first formal pieces called "America". A song whose melody mimicked "America, The Beautiful". Except that instead of extolling America for her greatness...this song rebuked her for her lack of care for the homeless. Inspired by a nighttime train ride in the bowels of New York City..."the real" New York City. At this time, I rarely showed anyone my pieces but someone I showed it to inspired me to copyright it and a few others I had written. I was really fuzzy on that. I mean damn...what the hell does a 16 yr old know about such things? So anyway...

I sent them in, paid my fees and before I knew it my cousins' club band wanted to sing one I wrote entitled "Do You Know". I started down that road but the Pentecostal in me at the time backed me away. Especially since it was a sensual song that may have induced "evil", "wicked" & "lustful" feelings into the listener. I didn't know any better. My Christian maturity hadn't reached the level to understand my humanity yet but that is another story I've since rehearsed all too well. At the time, I was not conflicted about my backing away but something else took me by surprise. The song "America" had reached the eyes of a publisher. They wanted to publish it in one of their volumes of conscientious writers and I was excited. Finally...something I could do! My conscience felt no pull either direction but as was my way...I consulted my Pastor. He was a good and honorable man of God but what he told me disappointed my young unvarnished soul.

"If it doesn't glorify God...it's not of Him"

I was crushed...but I heeded his council. It would not have made me famous nor would it have hurt anyone. It may have even brought some small attention to the homeless problem but..."it was not of God". Some might say he was right but today...I know they'd be wrong. Some might say "it's just because the times have changed" but still I would say they are in error. Maturity lead me to understand by reading and living God's Word in totality, that it would have glorified God in that writing such a song was in the service of "the least of these"...in whom Christ equates Himself. Yet...a religious young man could not see past his Pastor's direction and the Pastor could not see past his general church guidelines. I had a vision that was overtaken by religious duty and I will tell you the truth: I harbor no regret because such an experience has enriched me with a bit of wisdom on the matter that I can now pass on.

Folks, not everyone will see what you see. Not everyone will understand your vision and some that do will do their very best to co-opt your vision for their own purpose. I've seen this way too many times to count. I have been both a victim and a victimizer to my shame. A shame I have long since rectified. One partner may want to go to school but the other is against it to the point of discouragement. You want to improve to a place that may surpass your friends, yet they mock you to derision. Others are given an opportunity that will require them to move beyond the very places that house them when they come to find those places are an anchor to their goals. These my friends...are moments of truth. Rare moments where you, God and conscience must decide what will happen irrespective of the advice given you. It's in these moments...kings and queens are made. It's in these moments where you find out what your vision is truly worth to you. 

In my adult life, I've been blessed to write all sorts of pieces and three poetry books. Writing that includes all true manner of grit, grime and glory placed beautifully under the umbrella of passion with none but my heart to guide me. I can truly say that I've learned to give no weight to anyone's opinion but my own...a key to leaving behind a meaningful mark in this world. A truth that crosses the spectrum of character and creativity. Take some time and listen to all the timeless greats and they will tell you "nobody thought I'd make it doin it this way". They all proved their naysayers wrong. You can be just fine doin everything "cookie cutter" style. You'll be good but in the mix of songs, verses and niche...you'll only get as far as skin. You want to reach someone deeper? Dig deeper into yourself. Only problem is...nobody can help you do that. That's all you my people. Lead from the heart. Anyone gets in the way? Push them aside, assure them or not...and keep walkin...I'm out

~Moses

Angel - A Poem by Moe

holy creature service born

to move about with hallowed wings 

tasked by love and wholly sworn

to keep what's writ by hallowed kings

flesh did draw upon his eyes

a temporal beauty touched by night

finite lovers heartfelt cries

unknown to watchers bathed in light

hid he wings from earthen heart

that he might bathe by misty moon

fell to love this earthen art

that heavens grace could now commune

~Moses Apollo

The Gown - A Poem by Moe

"...sanguinisque pretiosi, quem in mundi pretium fructus ventris generosi..."

what dreams take place of restful sleep

that eyes still hold at waking weep

to rob the soul its careless state

oh princely gown beyond the gate

now made to hold in shape to wear

at once now sewn by tested care

upon a soul once torn in two

to brave the more in vested view

oh gladness grief come take his breath

from fear of weight and selfless death

by Word and heart inform the night

that day should soon confirm the sight

~Moses     

Ode To Respect...

"...He said I've seen you here before, I know your name. Yeah, you could have your 

pick of pretty things..."

In all my walks of life I've witnessed the vanity of men that for themselves have sought station and fame to call it honor. I've watched them fail miserably trying to please others. Bearing for themselves the shame of those they sought to please only be tossed aside as collateral damage by those that used their zeal for their own advancement. Oh my people, my problem has never been laziness or lack of skill. My problem has always been...my inability to be impressed by office, title or fame.

Yet what has been my problem to them that sought to usurp their authority over me has left me with a reputation of honor that has propelled me beyond those above me to unsought higher plains. Where one would find me insubordinate, his superior would find in me a voice of refreshing honesty. In every space I've been, I have found it all the same. Those seeking to find place that are fine with a following of zombies that would never question them and those that seek no fame...that quitely sojourn earning respect through brutal honesty from those that question and those that don't. The former have an end to their station as the day always comes when they are seen naked as lesser imitations of the mask they wear. The latter? Oh they wander naked already...with nothing to hide but their graces lest anyone should think them more than they are.

I tell you the truth. There is no greater honor than to be able to stand before God knowing you have done your best to always be honest with others...and with yourself. A small thing I learned in prayer. Because I cannot lie to He who sees my thoughts and intents in prayer, I would be a hypocrite if I lived my life outside of my prayer closet any other way. It is in this truth that I came to understand that only two were deserving of all trust, all respect and all reverence...my conscience and my God. All others I meet with the understanding that they are flesh and blood like me. With the same propensity to fail, to lie, to deceive and to seek advantage. As such I show men grace if they do. I seek to understand and keep an open mind as to why they are the way they are. Some men will fault a woman that runs away from affection never taking into account that she, at one time or another, may have felt the pain of betrayal. An understanding man would seek his own heart to see if she is worth the strain of turning that around but many are quick to toss aside gold hidden under the piles of ash left by life.

I am no respecter of persons...nor will I ever be. I seek no praise, fame or accolade that doesn't involve a clean conscience or a "well done" from my Lord. I respect those that respect me and will always seek the truth outside the confines of convention. So this I pray for you: Stay true in intent. Be honest in your review. Never allow yourself to be used in the schemes of another and meet your station, whatever it is...with your best. Honesty has nothing to fear for even when it hurts...it will be remembered as honorable. Someone once told me "I hated you when you left but at least you were the one man that told me the truth". Look upon the man or woman that doesn't need the validation of others...THAT is a soul set free. Free...irrespective of law and convention. Think on that...I'm out

~Moses

Bittersweet - A Poem by Moe

"...flock of birds, hovering above..."

oh bittersweet the taste of skin

that memory stored recalls within

the kind that drives a weak man wild

but draws a tease to one beguiled

oh sainted man call forth to prayer

and let thy soul find wisdom there

for lest thy slip to common woe

laws made for men, thy common foe

but sainted sinner knows this place

for he's been blessed to rest his face

betwixt the stems when rivers spray

and places where his Lord doth say

so find ye comfit in the truth

that freed this once religious youth

tis love that makes all passion true

for God and skin in me and you

~Apollo