Thursday, January 14, 2010

Nightmare...or a lesson in truth

Or rather an extremely lucid dream with some deep connotations.

The short version: I got used as a decoy-groom at someone else's wedding to distract some assassins from harming the real wedding party. I got shot like a dog but survived.

Rather than interpret this as a fear of commitment, I think it's my conscience pointing out something else.

I don't want to be a decoy. Though I've never been married, I think it should be about building something together. You help each other evolve as partners and equals. Make something important happen by being together. Love is not some commodity you toss around carelessly.

But I am worth more than a decoy! I'm not just some placeholder for the "better man" to come along.

I do have concerns that I've grown...indifferent. Maybe disillusioned is a more accurate term. There was a devil Icarried on my back. I mostly want the same things that were always important to me. I've pushed myself to pursue publishing and there's my family to look out for. You have moments when you wonder what the heck is the point though. What am I really fighting for anymore? Guess I miss the bright-eyed optimism of former days. Or perhaps my expectations were never realistic.

Got some good advice recently from a buddy about just moving forward and such. I mean if I keep talking about this being a new year with a new start I gotta stop beating myself up over the past.

You want to find some kind of meaning behind the stuff you go through but a lot of times it comes down to self-made foolishness.

I wanted to marry Abby. Maybe seeing her last month triggered the dream. We talked about our families and such. She once offered to copy edit Heritage Fields but she's a busy lady. I like being able to listen, being there for people even in a small way. That's the kind of person my folks wanted me to be.

Our split turned me upside down though. I was the nightmare in 2006. I know my responsibility and the abject cowardice that ended things. I compounded my problems with even worse decisions.

Nice job, Mr. Ruth. You've left a wonderful impression. For me it's not enough to claim I cleaned up my act, I need to prove it.

And there I go again . . .

When you're a kid you might keep crying over the same thing, but grown folks suck it up and forge ahead. That's proof of maturity. Work to be a better man every day and let the world decide if it is ready for you.

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Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away