The crow has struck the night between the billowed clouds that separate the light shining from the fullest moon. Entreating the king with every manner of vessel adorned of beauty, silk and shine. From old to new they "coo" at his status, taunting him at every plane. Light eyes and smooth thighs whisper death in the shadows disguised as life and living. Knowing the measure of all giftings gifted and all shiftings shifted groaned empty in his soul for epiphanies reason to purpose in him what is now deemed "more"...
For beautiful is the truest moon that all the world does admire. That all should marvel at it's acumen for love and lust in the simplest of terms yet it does not boast in such a thing. It does not relish in the accolades given nor does it rest it's purpose or identity in the power it has over countless hearts that beat in the night. Instead, it relishes in it's purpose. That it should be a light in the dark as all other effects are not in it's power but instead rest in the hearts of those it inadvertently entreats. If it's glory does not boast or find it's pride in such things then why should the king or any other do any less?
And so it went that the crow has struck the night between the billowed clouds that separate the light shining from the fullest moon. The king has ordered death to the crow. Many came...few remain. For they came bearing gifts of light eyes, smooth thighs and subtle lies. Vanity is to receive them all as if it was his power to abuse but as it is so of the beauty of purposed creation so it shall be with him. Entreat him with honor, grace and words that lace around his heart. For to noose either neck for the sake of control is akin to using bit and bridle used on animals needing taming and not for kings that rest in such awareness. Entreat him with beauty's hold adorned by the unseen face that shines beneath the bone and the heart that bleeds for moments of purity that seek the eternal experience deemed a fool's love aimed at reckless abandon. The king and the fool speak tonight. Watching and waiting...for more...
The king looks out over his balcony into the clear night sky as Clair De Lune plays ever so softly in the backdrop of his room. Gazing into the glory of the fullest moon he sighs as he can still find the silhouette of her pretty face. He finds comfort in this...
What an honor it is to be called "Father". I've heard that title attributed to so many different roles but being one myself I can tell you that it should be exclusive. Exclusive to men that are willing to sacrifice all they are for the sake of their children..."for greater love has no man than this".
I am proud to say that my father is such a man. A man with honor and integrity that comes at you in blunt truth no one could deny. Not flashy...but real. Even in weakness and error you could still see it...a prime example of what a husband and father should be. Yes, those that know him, including myself, can attest to the fact that he made mistakes but the seed from which those errors came had nothing to do with malice. Instead, they all came from his "humanity". Something else he taught me all about from both his failure and most importantly...his restoration. Folks, my father never gave up on me and when it was my turn to do the same for him...his example guided my way. He never once threw up his hands as if to say "he'll never amount to anything" when it came to me in all my errors and that, among many other attributes, stays with me to this day. He always knew what I was capable of and encouraged me every step of the way without fail even when I offered him reason to doubt. Yet in all this grace I could speak on, the one thing that moved me the most was something that my mother had shared with me. I was very young and living with my mother at the time as my parents were divorced. My father had a drinking habit back then but it was never as severe as others I've known. She told me that several times in a state of drunkenness, he would climb the fire escape and look through the window just to make sure I was ok...just so he could see me. That mi gente...told me a lot. That told me that I was on his mind and more so...on his heart. Nobody saw it but her so no, this was no show. It was a man finding his peace in a glimpse of the most beautiful thing he ever created...me.
You see and that's just it. My father raised me with one thing in mind and I am carrying on the same in my children as best as I can today. Instilling the truth about faith, honor, integrity and love. I want my boys to have as their forefront a pure heart where honor and integrity are concerned. Actions and good deeds mean nothing if the seed from which they come is malicious and/or selfish. Good grades, a good job...doesn't mean a thing if you treat people like garbage. I hear parents say that "so long as you do good in school, you'll get to have...x y or z". That might be an incentive but parents sometimes forget to prioritize the heart of their children towards character. I truly thank God for my father's wisdom in this. He stressed education yes, but stressed even more the side of simply "being a good man". So everyday, my prayer for my children is that they put character first above and beyond all else. So far, I'm very proud to say that I see this in them already. Even when they mess up or fall short of their potential...I see the struggle of conscience weighing heavy on their heart. Almost always coming to a resolution that would satiate the desire to do "the right thing". In this...I am a very grateful man.
I just pray that I can continue to live up to the example given me and if that means my children are to wind up being a better man than I ever was...or will be...then I know I did my job.
We live, we breathe, we love, we leave. We laugh, we cry, we rinse till dry. Only to repeat these glorious movements all over again. What's great is that we're constantly cycling towards something greater. Each cycle adding more to us than the last. Where new breath clears out the toxins of the old. Where love is fiercer and pain runs deeper. Where those we love become dearer to us as we begin to see their true value. Where we laugh neath tears of joy while letting go of all that hindered us at every rinse. All to live again with newer life. Movements that break us to make us. Stay aware...don't miss them or you will risk missing out on all they have to offer...
Never be dismayed. Never stop believing you will meet that place made just for you. That place independent of anything or anyone you carry. That place you will share with those dearest to you. I am finding mine at every cycle and I pray in earnest you find yours. We'll share in them together one day.
Always remember: Two steps forward, one step back...is still one step forward. Much love...
I was broken from a young age, Taking my soul into the masses, Write down my poems for the few
That looked at me took to me, shook to me, feeling me..."
Of all the things I could write about tonight this little revelatory piece of dialogue seems best to me. It is from 1962's "Lawrence Of Arabia" starring the great Peter O' Toole. I will admit to never having seen this great classic but this one particular scene was rehearsed by the android "David" in 2012's "Prometheus". A prequel of sorts to the classic "Alien". You see David was attempting to become more human so he took to studying movies and that one scene stood out as something he would never come to truly understand.
Potter: [trying to copy Lawrence's snuffing a match with his fingers] Oooh! It damn well hurts.
Lawrence: Certainly it hurts.
Potter: Well, what's the trick, then?
Lawrence: The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts.
As an android, he had no sensation of pain so he could never truly understand the truth at the core of human endurance and by extension...human strength. Study those lines and understand the "greats" you've encountered and what they've had to endure. How they can take struggle, never seeming to flinch at loss or feel the sting of the punch. As onlookers, we think them invulnerable to pain when the truth is far more elementary than some imbued super power. The truth is they feel it all. They experience grief, loss, fear and doubt just like anyone else. The difference is found in their experience. Either in the expectation of what awaits or in the fact that this pain has become so commonplace that it is no longer met with surprise. They no longer "mind" the pain within the struggle. It no longer slows them down because as it has in so many times past...resolved itself over time. They come to understand that the cliche is more than that...it is a truism. Where there is life, there is in fact...always tomorrow...
For anything a man will face or have to endure, so long as there is life...there is always the opportunity to keep pushing. The very breath we breathe is reason enough to keep living. There is a reason why I overuse the phrase "I ain't done yet"...I'm still alive. Death, loss, pain, grief and failures are only setbacks to the soul that has his eyes fixed on the journey. I never forget and I always forgive...learning that anything can and will happen along the way. So what then is the "trick" to invulnerability? Amongst all great expectation...expect the setback, the delay & the pain. You won't mind it so much when you come to realize an undeniable universal truth...that such things are commonplace for an ordinary life on it's way to becoming extraordinary. Much love...
PS: My house still stands as there will never be the need to burn it down ;-)
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love...and be loved in return..."
Jack was as a young poet. A boy with a pure heart that wandered the country side in search of his one true love. He came across a beautiful young maiden that drew his attention by her ocean blue eyes and golden hair. She had a soft demeanor replete with all manner of tenderness to her. Needless to say, he fell in love quickly with this beautiful angel. He did everything for her. Going out of his way in every sense to accommodate her needs and he was more than happy to do so. At times when he couldn't fulfill a request, she would cry and this would move him to do even more than he had because he could not stand to see her in pain. After some time, he began to hear whispers about her and others that he would simply brush off. He even began to hear about her ability to manipulate by easily turning on tears but he would not believe it. His love for her for was unbending, it had blinded him to any suspicion. One day, he was in an adjacent room when he overheard her arguing with her father. As was her way, she began to cry and as he was about to enter the room to comfort her, her father left and the tears all of a sudden stopped. She didn't know that Jack had seen it and as for Jack...he was crushed to his very soul. He began to search out the whispers and found them all true. With every new truth uncovered, this uncompromising love began to die within him. Not just for her...but for love itself. By the time he came to say goodbye, Jack had become cynical to all the loves that came after. This young man filled with passion for hope had now become a man that hoped to find passion again but was only met by those with the same cynicism he was doing his best to rid himself of...
Jill was a beautiful young maiden. Filled with a well of love, hope, dreams and aspirations. Beautiful in every way. With a smile that could melt the hardest heart. One day as she was working at the marketplace, a handsome young man approached her and she became enamored by his charm and wit. He would visit her daily and soon she would fall in love with him. She knew little about him, but she believed in the purity of love. She believed that he loved her and that was all that was needed. He promised her the world and soon, they would move into his home up in the hills. He told her they would soon be married after he had gotten all his affairs in order and the first few months, she could only describe as "heaven". As time went on, still unmarried, his demeanor went from charming to forceful. He would at times purposefully make her feel ugly when other men would look at her and as for her dreams of going on to university, he would cry to her saying that she didn't love him if she went away. All so he could keep her in his home. He would even give her more duties to perform so she had very little time for socializing and after awhile, the only soul she would ever see was him. She lost all interest in taking care of herself and all dreams she had were soon lost in him as well. She didn't mind it of course. After all...she loved him. One day, she decided to finish her duties early and go off to the marketplace to see some friends and what she found crushed her to her very soul. She saw him in an embrace with another young maiden she had been friends with in times past and she ran home crying. When he had arrived, she confronted him about what she saw and he became enraged beating her into submission. With every blow he threw, her love felt every hit. Dying...with every strike to her frail form. Not just for him...but for love itself. She left the next day and every new love that came after...was met with suspicion. This young woman filled with passion for hope had now become a woman that hoped to find passion again but was only met by those with the same suspicion she was doing her best to rid herself of...
and thus began the extinction of "true love"
Oh my beautiful friends...at one time or another, in one form or another, every one of us has been a "Jack" or a "Jill". Wounded animals are we that dared to love as it was meant to be in a callous world. We carry those wounds into other relationships. Our instinctive defense mechanisms kick in, inadvertently wounding others so that the cycle continues until love exists as it does today. A cheap imitation of itself. Just another Checkers match for supremacy so that we will never be wounded again. Causing "love" to become nothing but a curse word. An emotion that needs changing or tweaking. Redefined as less than itself simply so that we can keep having companionship without risking a thing. How do we end this? How do we give "true love" it's worthy breath again? I can only offer my opinion from my experience and I will tell you that the first thing that needs to happen is a little something called "healing". Allow your wounds to heal before you enter into anything else. Let those wounds become worthy scars. Find your lesson in each scar and learn where you went wrong. Study your choices. Study yourself until every scar carries a lesson. Forgive those that did you wrong without making excuses for them because making excuses for them will only carry you back to the same garbage you just left. Back to them or the same garbage found in others. In time, your scars will reveal to you that love had nothing to do with their lack of character and that at least now, you have a roadmap to what you will accept and what you will not. All without pain, fear or bitterness, each new soul will be judged on it's own merit based on all the understanding your scars have afforded you. Soon, true love will not be a thing to be feared...but something you will pine for in the realms of possibility. Heal up, choose right, love strong and in the end...you will break your cycle.
As for me? I proudly carry many scars with me. Some wounds I can say have not fully healed but they are healing even at this writing. With every brutal look I take through inspection and introspection. With every consequential thought I entertain I make myself better. I forgive all that have done me wrong but because I have learned from their wrong, I also know I can only go so far with them and they know this because the boundaries are made plain by me. As for love? I only know it as true love. I don't fear it or any pain that may come while I'm in the throws of it. Every second I have with it affords me an unparalleled freedom to exist for lasting purpose. It is pure and wonderful and beautifully fleeting at times but it is just as powerful today as it ever was. It abides in the pure at heart and in those that have been able to carry scars without the bitterness of pain. It even abides in those that fear it because at least they give it due diligence enough to respect it's power. So, even as endangered as it is, I will always welcome it. As a poet and a lover of passion...I have no choice ;-)
"A black rose for one, a bouquet for a few and a single orchid for mi..."
You have read me write about the beauty of woman. Such outer beauty that can rival the greatest works of art birthed in the imagination of men. Such inner beauty displaying the graces of wisdom, tenderness and power. All this beauty...all this grace. What can I say about the beauty of "mother"...
I am one that believes humans go through stages of growth based on what they are prepared to carry. In an ideal world, youth find toothpicks heavy. Dealing with all measures of teenage angst. Learning to cope with friendships and new feelings that arise. As they get older and the toothpicks weight becomes light, they are now ready to carry a wooden beam. Leaving home, fending for themselves and experimenting with more mature subjects as they begin to find out who they are. Soon enough, that wooden beam becomes light and they are now ready to carry heavy logs. Heavy logs that may include marriage or more importantly...a child. For to carry the weight of another life requires strong shoulders. Shoulders whose strength is settled into the idea they must remain that strong for the duration of the lives that they have been blessed to carry. This is a mother...
I have been exceedingly blessed to have two mothers. One that bore me and one that helped raise me through my adolescent years. Both very different but both strong and beautiful in their own individual ways. From one I saw the breadth and length she would go to make sure we were not only taken care of, but that we were treated to the very best and from the other, I saw the daily care in the cooked meal, the attention given to my day and how little things could make all the difference in the world. From the single mother that works and does all she can for her children to the stay at home mom that does the same. The sacrifice to themselves was always evident and this is the ultimate metric for what I call "mother".
I give honor and praise to my ex-wife Millie for being the perfect helpmate in raising my sons and although we are not together today, she remains my helpmate in this regard until the day God chooses to take us home. Relationships may evolve and so must the way we parent but a parent is a parent for life and we do not take this lightly. She is one of the greatest women I have ever known without exaggeration and she is deserving of all that I can give her in this life even now. All men of duty, honor and love will attest that a good woman should never be taken for granted or taken advantage of. She has my love, respect, honor and care for as long as is required of me.
I also give honor to all the women I've known that have sacrificed their lives for the sake of raising their children. You may think this praise redundant but in a world where too many today are more concerned with "me time" that they have shifted their focus off their children, I believe those that have stayed focused and found proper balance should receive honorable mention. I believe in "me time" as it is a necessity at times for sanity but never at the expense of the children and/or marriage. I have come to know and love single mothers that have impressed me with the care of their children. My love only growing for them when I found myself second to their children. They know who they are. So take heed little boys. Where you see "baggage"...I see greatness.
Now lest I should put aside my eloquent praise too early, there is one more group I must mention. A smaller group I've been more than blessed to come to know. To the women that have taken children unto themselves that they have not borne but have birthed in grace through love itself, I give you the highest honor. Revealing that the heart of a mother is beyond flesh and blood and that love can cross that blood barrier creating a family with no difference from any other is a miracle to me. If I knew nothing else about you, that to me is more than enough to solidify your worth. From those of you that adopt, to those that have chosen to raise children in difficult circumstances...I hold you in the highest esteem. You know who you are...
Happy Mother's Day to you all...enjoy your day and be blessed...
