ST32 ... Loneliness walked by yesterday

Laid down its shoes. I wasn't happy about it.

Loneliness walked by yesterday and laid down its shoes. I wasn't happy about it, but what could i do. The floor was close to my heart and the air was stale. I shuffled about in the mental crib for awhile before i escaped out in to the world. The crazy streets all turned into one another, the cigar store lit up when i walked by. In the afternoon of regret love seemed to mock me. The evening was worse. I slept as often as i could. Dreams took me by the hand and forced me into things. I am so very lonely. Eternity is crying in the night. I want to go home.

The lonely shore weaves around my clouds, in the afternoon the waves are ferociously still. I sit against the shadows from the burning sun and mud sticks to my bones. I am sick with grief for love fell apart and there is no one left sitting on my wall. I want to hide under my skin but it's too thin, too weak in this light.

The lonely doors kicked me out into the avenue. A one lane left, revealed a way out. I took it.

When i look back at the secrets, they all smile.

______________________________________

Days turned into days. I thought about my family. I thought about my friends. I watched the way people acted within their worlds. I was feeling rather obscure, as if the world had some special meaning and it would not include me. I tried to be me but they would not let me be. Always twisting realities into things that ultimately just could not settle comfortably within this mind i drag along.

Before the great adjustment entered the planet, to my family i was strange, weird in my concepts but considered unique, deep, worth respect. Things changed. I'm uncertain how most of them feel. There is an info war going on. Most of them are unaware of just how intricate the minds of humanity have been manipulated with great skill. Many of my friends fit into a similar category. Many have lost touch, it appears, for the most part. I feel sad and lonely for short moments about all that and with out them around. Time moves on when you are entrapped outside the moment. Thought has become our god. Feelings are clusters of thought so fine, it is almost a miracle. Humanity is moving closer to the dream of immortality. Without some form of intervention the world of man will embrace super thought, immortality, the interconnection between digital and analog, mechanical minds smothering the path of the heart.

To that i think there is no doubt! The critical thinkers are caught in a trap. Their love for thought and perfect reason, the logic of time will cripple them. I know. I am a victim of the wounded heart as most of us on this incredible ball of water, soil and cells. I tend to believe, we have learned to tell the heart what to do, rather than listening to the heart and using reason to abide by its superior sacred intelligence. It is much more difficult to  understand than scribbling a few words across this field of thought.

I see the sun setting across the valley of San Miguel de Allende. I know nothing really. I am in awe. Silent. Watching. My being is swimming in cosmic tears of waves sailing across this universe of miraculous love. Words will never own me. I am of nothingness, pure spirit emanating truth/love

San Miguel de Allende, leaving the light behind, welcoming dark skies

On this planet, i have four sisters, two brothers gone and one brother living, numerous nieces and nephews, great and great greats. In the days of past, i would be welcome anywhere, taken care of, almost an elder in their homes. Info war times and crimes have injured these connections. We have more ways today to connect via invisible waves and yet the human heart is feeble, alone, dying. I surrender to the night and remember each and every one of my family and friends as i travel soft across the horizon with them and with the dark orange sphere of life caressing death, surrendering slowly into the night. There is light everywhere, entangled in love, worth every moment to cherish a focus. 

a moment of water and light along a narrow cobble stone street in SMA

Today the sun is bright against the coloured walls along the narrow cobble stone streets here in SMA. I have surrendered to the air of relief, the calm of silence between the noice of the world and dreams agitating the inevitable; age, broken cells, death of life. The world continues on thru its illusions, tattoos of empowerment, poems describing circumstance, alien realities surrounding, roads endless and uncertain.

I fell into a dream. She was there again with me. We settled ourselves in a space of wonderful harmony. The kids were playing in the grassy yard, the cat annoying the dogs, chickens, goats, geese wondering about, a painted sky against a field of wild flowers and crooked trees and everything moving smooth, free and wild. We were young, we were old, we were living within our means perfectly and the neighbours were far enough away to be close enough when needed. Novels were written through these fields, poems were elevated to the heights of heaven, compositions wove themselves around the waves for eons. We cried, we laughed, we loved, we hurt, we were human.

poems elevated to the heights of heaven,

Everything is much too fast from this cafe, this corner of cobble stone tourists and bussing cycles and squeaky tire vehicles, cell phones everywhere. Old women with tights too tight and old men holding onto their youth with a glimpse. It's all good, it's what is, sad and beautiful from every cobble stone that laid its face against the road, existence in these fumes from death giving energy vehicles. Breath, deep and clean is rare here thru this architectural paradise.

Gentle souls weave in and out of my existence for moments. People from all walks of life approach me for directions. I must look like a tour guide. I give them the best knowledge i have for their day, for their hearts with smiling information from the sunny side of me. Life is a gentle breeze of warm love at moments when the judge is out to lunch and angels are singing from this worn ancient architecture of sweat and dreams.

It's time to move on, my suitcase is waiting, a few loose words scribbled on a napkin, an extra pair of shoes for the road, mysterious and irresistible, and faint love lingering in the strangest ways.

Thanks for observing and reading my work.

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WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

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