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A Good Life – Unmet – A Time That It Was – In a Reverie We Lost

August 27, 2017

A Good Life  –  Unmet  – a Time that it Was   – In a Reverie We Lost


One comes to grips with the tragedy of being born in this scenario, which some will define as drama and others as a common challenging life

No matter what all of this is puerile as the lathe turns out the bannister rung

Rising meeting thresholds of the riser that defines the height of each of the thirteen steps from foundation to the second story

This is truly a tale told by an idiot who never kept balance, was measured always flaunting symmetry, function and form

From that moment of inception soothing caresses were not understood nor permitted

Love was meted out rarely never tenderly never settling in the marrow of bones that were forming within

the lactating was frail pallid jaundiced like a hard cist lacking gentle rocking cooing soothing lullabies or pastoral caresses  of caring nurturing endless love

One could only imagine what it must have felt like to be held to be rocked to be cared for as a beloved child instead of a nuisance to dispense with the formalities and prerequisites for being a parent


Early eerily one crept into a passageway of dreams of scattered reveries of blissful escapes that were imagined like brothers who could come to the aid of the infant whenever there was a perceived threat  Nightmares were always predicated by self-doubt fear trembling visions of apparitions that appeared from endless recesses

causing  you from earliest dawn’s light to stretch one’s neck, to carefully watch and listening for any disturbance like a song bird lighting in a tree nesting softly raising a trill from any distraction  flitting about endlessly in the brush seeking safety from the dark ground that struck down defenseless solitary guests in a foreign land


One seldom pleased or delighted anyone none was more unsuited to be a friend a companion a lover a partner a  brother or sister or son or father or sun or moon or star

One longed to please, to ameliorate the feeling of separation of feeling alone and lost in a struggle that no one could imagine.

Never was there anyone more unsuited to exercise a place a chance a point to shine when everywhere there were those who disclaimed the presence of you as fit to be here


You carried out an innocence a seriousness a feeling of brooding passion sensing that everything  every night and day every dream every cell every moment was a struggle for truth a way a light a treat  a treasure a sanctuary from a torment that took one’s breath and life forever more


One sensed that there were many who would be relieved and sensed that it was just that there was no point of continuing the inevitable that life had truly passed you by and that your presence was a mistake that there would be many who  would miss nothing about you and that you sensed that your afflictions were permanent scars of self loathing deceit retribution denial decay of blight that you deserved like smut on an aspen tree.

You did not nor you do not belong


Your trepidation is justified Your pardon will not come you are condemned


One last morsel one draught from the well one last inhalation and exhalation of beyond


Narcissism that rests in shattered dreams of forlorn excursions of desperate plans of eked out memories of squandered senses

Nothing more no shadow coming to meet the new day no pulse no inspiring and perspiring of lack of feeling of numbness

bonds like umbilical cords dried up forgotten limbs rigid eye sockets receding into shores that wash away like aging wearing down dissolving

a lone sea-bird cries one’s only eulogy



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