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Twenty miles past my tomorrow sits a boy I knew in sorrow. His days are as the grass, limitless in the counting until the heat of summer burns them up. Yet in the green of springs awakening, I see that summer's baking has turned him into a noble savage, a prince who's court has ravished all the lands beneath his gaze.
And yet, that's still tomorrow.
Ten days into the future sits a boy I used to tutor. An equal in some ways, a reble in most, his thougts always wandering, his spirit half ghost. Aside from rending castles and making PS pixels dance, I know that he's the one that I'll someday get the chance to see him strong, lean and long, alert and wise in his own age.
And yet, that's still tomorrow.
Four days ago I discovered a boy with father and mother. His future seemed bright, his arrogance and pride desptie. Yet in the time since I knew him, learned his mind and saw through him, he changed his whole world, to level the ground, and all around, laid our ruins further to waste.
And for him there is no tomorrow.
Today, I buried a friend, not one I'll know now, nor ever again. We had such high hopes in the air, the fire, fame and fanfare. Alas he took his own fate and let if fall, through the grate of the fire that burns us all, tempes some, yet touches everyone and smothers still others with out mercy or care.
And for me there's tomorrow.
So in the passages of my mind, I will have to find the time. He took his own time away, not using it or saving it for a rainy day. He spent it all in such a careless rush, lost in the anguish and the lust of things he never knew, never tried, never even asked for as died. A lost soul in a lost world lost to suicide.
And today, yesterday and tomorrow, I cried.
I'd walk twenty miles into the future if he were there, standing, stopping to stare. I'd take ten days to just be with him again, talking things over as a friend. Learning his troubles and his faults, helping him make sense of it all despite not knowing how deeply melancholy he was. Four days ago I met a boy who was my friend, and i never knew him enough to understand how near he was to his own end, at his own hand.
And just now, part of my died, too.
Ten seconds ago, I woke from the dream, not with a whimper or a scream. I felt the sweat cool in night breezes, snuffling, holding back sneezes. Knowing that not only had it been a horrible chimare, but that the truth was in there, that there was still miles and days and minutes and seconds to spare. But only if I dared, to make the changes and rearranges, to take the time to stop time's long hard steps from pushing my friend into the endless abyss.
And the phone is in my hand.
Seven numbers ago, I was worried, felt scurried. I hastened to chassen the blues and the rues and the clues. And in that moment, talking with this boy who was my friend, I felt the future pain end. He opened and told me his woes, his heart's feelings he shows and he asks me to help him to understand.
And as we talk, I smile, becaue I realize that I may not have given him ten days, nor twenty miles, nor even four days back, but I have given him hope for now. And I have given him strength to see past a weakness. And I have given back life to a friend my dream warned me would soon end himself.
Even God needs days like these. Not just to feel like I do, but to feel as my friend does. That someone can just reach out, reach in and begin again, to give you back what you may want to throw away on your own. And that thought both warms me and chills me to the bone. So many fade away when so few had just to say "I do not know what you are going through. I don't understand, but I want to. I want to know what you know. And in that knowing, that understanding, that sharing, I want you to know that you matter to me."
And in that small, bright, burning hope, I am whole again.
It's not the wolf you see you should fear, but all the ones he howls with. Don't be afraid of the song, but don't piss off the choir.
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smith
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On fire! |
Registered: January 1970
Messages: 1095
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20 miles...10 days...10 seconds...a careless rush and lust for things he never knew, never tried, never had yet even asked for...
this hurts
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d'art, did you write that? it's very haunting, very pretty and *very* emotional, and sad. which means i adore it.
my void does not want.
-- 2.13.61.
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Even in it's sad tone and subtle hints at what happens in the dream, if you read it to the end, you see that it is sort of an unfulfilled prophecy. And beacuse the dreamer woke up and took the dream for what it was, for the truth his conscious mind hadn't yet put together about his friend, he had the chance to avert the tragedy. So while it is a sad poem, there is an undercurrent of hope. Consider it a warning not to take the people in your life for granted, nor your impact on them.
And yes it's mine. The thing I keep trying to get fully into my Signature at the bottom though isn't mine. Just something I really feel strongly about. It's lyrics from a song by Alison Kraus and Union Station, called Moments Like These - taking it from the end movement, it goes like this:
It's in our power, to face the storm with all it's fury and madness.
The crash of thunder, flows beyond us with a longing and sadness -
The clouds will break!
So hold me; Whisper gently,
this is what we live for,
how we learn who we are.
It defines us; Ever reminding us
that life never is,
more precious than this.
So hold me; Whisper gently
that there's no need for fear,
you'll always be near,
To remind me, stand behind me,
although life can be rough,
we can never give up!
It's not the wolf you see you should fear, but all the ones he howls with. Don't be afraid of the song, but don't piss off the choir.
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Poem Time, something very sad. 
Ohhh 
