Racing Homeward

Benny had to reason with herself.

Where should these thunderclouds come from?

Her tears fell for what seemed like the hundredth analogy of her life and she was sick with the poetry- sick of the words that were designed to cover up our truth. The truth of sadness. The truth that feeling is only what we make it because of our heart, our minds. Why wouldn't her heart die? Why couldn't Benny just be another faceless ape in a jungle of innocence and ignorance?

She should be- she could be- she would be.

Benny, like she had in so many more touching scenes before this one, which, in truth, only lasted five minutes and twenty- three seconds in a lifetime measured in years, folded her handkerchief one last time.

"The more we love, the more we hurt"

The words stung her acutely. It was a heavy truth.

Goodbye, sweet, young, Benny. Goodbye to the Benny who thought she had felt every pain the world had to offer her.

Hello to a new Benny. A sad Benny. A Benny who has failed her most dreaded test without the chance at another.

Goodbye, Ed. You have taken with you the last of what was a fleeting youth, at any rate.

I almost forgot already....

but here is my one, lone, shining moment of intellect for the day:

Please turn your headlights on while driving in the rain. Unless of course you would prefer to die in a fiery crash.

Now that that is over I can give you a short list, like I always do when I am too busy for you.

• I love The Boy. We are making plans and holding hands and kissing lips and... taking tips?
• Soon, two years will have flown by. And You will be just a flutter of a memory in a waking nightmare
• I know, I owe you Mr. Nice. Hold onto your breeches. That is, if you wear any.
  
  

A Weak Attempt

I will attempt to write something- anything- everyday here for the next thirty days. Mark my words: I will fail, but success is not the goal.

Thoughts are the goal. Free flowwing, warm, glowing thoughts. An inventory of never ending thoughts being marked with simple symbols meant to represent everyhting we are.

We shall see. To begin, anyhow, these are the short words i have for you with one thought:

All light is true and all clarity is as yet unblemished.