another conversation, entirely

you, like every soul before and after, belive your story is unique. your burden is too much. your triumph, overwhelming. your sorrow is the first, the worst. no one has felt the feelings you feel. yesterday's loss will be the death of you. and tomorrow your heart will burst for love. today you do not know.

these are lies.

understand, you are a story of many mediums. you will never know a weight like a cross. you will never see greatness. you can never know what it is to hurt. yesterday, you were nothing. tomorrow you will be that much less. today you are alone, but only when you so say.

this is truth

it is in the whole of humanity that we can see the extremes.
the individual is not.
it
simply
is
not.
you see, we really do need each other.

despite the holes in our chests,
the fire in our veins,
the blood on our hands,
you and i will never, ever really live to be.

you and i will always be alone, but we can be together.
you and i will never feel, but together we can love.
you and i will never be, but in love we are more.

when the weight in your bones would bend your back,
remember the broken.
when the love in your chest would stretch your seams,
remember the torn.
when the hole in your heart would wear your substance,
remember the consumed.
when the life in your days would kill you,
remember the living.

in all things, beautiful and terrible, I whisper softly:
"this too, shall pass."
and in our lives, beautiful and terrible, we cry out with the chorus:
"this shall last forever."

Eighty Eight: I

I. Sic, meus vita pro vestri.
[Thus, my life for yours]

He loved the sea and salted air
A sailor's son by birth.
His watered eye and distant stare,
He lived for sea, not earth.

His breath for mine, the bargain went.
I'll live upon the swell.
I will fulfill his years unspent
and raise him out of Hell.

He took a wife in early life
And she bore him a son.
To honor him, I'll love again
To end what he'd begun.

I signed aboard a ship today
She moored in Spanish bay.
The grey gulls circle, calling me.
I hear the cry: "Be free."

Eighty-seven lives I've lived.
Mark eighty-eight today.
For Felix, I my debts forgive,
and take the sailor way.

From this day, I am Vitus Meriwether of Swansea.
I do this for Felix. My charge. My brother. My friend.
You will know peace.

Overture

The moonlit night, the holy Light;
Our fires reflect the stars.
The soldiers rest, their captain dressed.
The men won’t see my scars.

In full array, I stood to pray.
In pride I could not kneel.
I prayed for glory and heroes stories.
I put my faith in steel.

So I did not pray for victory.
I prayed that songs be sung.
I asked God for a vain glory,
And thus we were undone.

The druids hid behind the dark,
Through vile and wicked ways.
And I alone heard howl and bark;
The demon dogs that bay.

I stood and watched one hundred men.
I was Centurion.
I saw Hell open, swallow them,
And I was only one.

One hundred men, as close as kin
Tomorrow they’d know war.
One hundred lives that will not rise
Tomorrow, never more.

The sun rose red above my head,
And heavy on my heart.
No soldier wakes as morning breaks,
No battles here to start.

One hundred fathers’ lives.
One hundred sons’ or brothers’.
One hundred weeping wives,
One hundred widowed mothers.

Now I can kneel. There is no steel
Can save me from what’s come.
In Hell’s dark fire, as if a pyre,
I lost my own dear son.

The sages spell complete,
Those mages made retreat.
One final chant they make,
That I would have the fate
Of all the men that I lost.
The fate of those who paid my cost.

Could any of them know
The curse that they bestowed?
It did not bring me bitter death,
They could not take away my breath.
Those warlocks cursed me by my name,
And that they could not claim.

For every son of God I lost
I’m forced to pay a price.
A score of years—a modest cost—
For each upon my life.

The fate that I am given now
Is not to share their death.
My curse, though I cannot say how,
That I should have their breath.

For twenty years I am one man,
And twenty more per life.
For each I do that which I can
To earn him paradise.

This is not what you think.

This is what I think.
I think,
I am in love with a ghost.
The spirit of what wasn't.
She is not what I believed.
What I wanted to believe.
Oh, I wanted to, but she,
She is not.

Now this thing before me wears
your hair, your skin, your smell, your smile.
It is in the eyes that I see, my love has gone.

I gave you something that was mine to give,
but it was not yours to take.
Now my giving takes more.
I offer you this pound of flesh.
It is the choice meats;
The tender center.

Love, let us speak of Love a while.
May our clumsy words perfect.
May our Perfect Words perform.
May we lie in bed,
and in our lying, may we whisper truths.
May we lie in bed?
I have lied in many places, our bed is not exempt.
I have shown you many faces, all in my attempt
to earn the right to know.

May we know?
May we know what lies before us?
May we know. What lies before us!
What lies, indeed.
What truth and beauty, too.
May we know what lies behind?
May it be behind, ever close to the back of our mind.

Love, let us speak no more.
Let us only touch.
May we know too much.

do you think she knew?

How does the story go? She opened that box, and brought to earth every evil and painful thing. And left in the box was Hope, sorry and frail as She was. So she took Hope into her heart and there She found a home.

were the contents of that Box really so dissimilar? what if she'd left Hope in the box? she could have saved us from a greater pain than famine, fear, war, or hate. she could have saved us from Hope. but she didn't. i think the mistress of hindsight knew that Hope could kill. but she also knew that Hope might save us. she knew she couldn't release such a terrible and beautiful thing on the world, so she hid Her in her chest. and now we all will carry Her, broken as She is, until She saves us.

or kills us fucking dead.

on weight, the practical applications of a bucket, and alchemy

things i have learned tonight:

It's hard to steer a planet.

or a heart.

Albatrosses are fucking heavy. shoot one sometime, you'll see.

There are things you cannot avoid.

There are things you cannot keep.

Buckets do no good for a bullet wound, but sometimes it's all you get. at least it keeps the mess up off the floor.

There are things you will never understand, no matter how hard you try.

There are things you will understand perfectly, no matter how you wish it weren't so.

Intent is just a word.

There's alot of waiting to be done.

Things move very quickly. sometimes.

Lead will never turn to gold. but given time, it may go the other direction.

It doesn't matter which you carry, it gets goddamn heavy to have that kind of thing in your chest for very long. Or on your sleeve.
or anywhere, really. sometimes it's best to just put it away for a little while until you think you can carry it again.

There are worse fates. right?

I have alot to learn. and time enough to do it, i suppose.

Let me tell you something

Love is not the answer.
Love is not all you need.
Love is not a feeling.
Love is not something you will be ready for.

Love conquers nothing.

Love is a question.
Love is a beginning, not an end; never a means.
Love is a choice.
Love says, "I'm not ready. I'm not OK. I'm not perfect, but I want to learn to love you. Even if I fail today, tomorrow, and tomorrow again, I want to know you. I want you to know love."

Love wins.