October 19, 2010

Mud Season Months Early

Stuck. Somewhere between day and night and in the center of those three notes colliding. The crash of rhythm and melody. I'm between hope and fear with belief clashing and thrashing and screeching for attention, for definition, for my hand. I'm standing in the middle of honesty, cleansed by its current but stripped down, to the center of everything and nothing, which always seem to be the same. Always the same. Loud and quiet, completely still. Anything but peaceful. Rolling over to emptiness, but sometimes I fill the space, the time, the moments, alone. A crescendo, waves rushing forward. Perfect circles. These seams can't contain that which I push against, wishing for the strength to shove and pound my fists, but honesty crumbles me and moves me. Back to where I began.

[if i knew how to install music to a single blog post, i'd post this song at the top.]

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