With planks of bleached bones and silent sails of flayed flesh the mistress of maritime misfortune stalks the sordid seas.
When the ocean awakens and wandering waves and worrisome winds batter your vessel; it is not only sharks that circle your belabored boat.
To those flung overboard the capsizin(more)g craft there is no hope. The briny blue batters the breath from your lungs and blackness clouds your vision. Then, you see hope. A vessel of brilliant white to fish you from your folly. Unearthly unfurled sails pull the craft towards you heedless of the blasting heavens and the roaring sea. You glimpse a lifeless figure affixed limp across the prow of the ship as if it were upon a crucifix.
Towards you the vessel glides yet it comes not for your salvation. She needs a new figurehead. (less)
You had me breathless from the beginning. The way your deep blue eye's pierced into the depths of my very being sent a chill down my spine the moment I saw your face. You saw me for who I was the instant we locked eyes. You were the one.(more) When you smiled, radiance poured forth like the first crack of sunshine on a new day banishing the cold, dark night. The sound of your voice was music to my ears. God in heaven listens to your laughter when he wants to smile. Your wit was stunning, your kindness, divine. When I reached towards you and you reached a hand out to touch mine, my heart melted. When I woke up though, it broke. (less)
Every summer I've lived at home has been distinctly marked by what we called pickin' season. The blackberries fill the woodlands, the fruit trees are bearing, and the garden is teeming with perfectly crisp and fresh veggies.
You don't check the fridge, you go outside.
(more) But nothing beats the blueberries. 3 rows of overladen bushes, more blue than green, nary a leaf to be seen. Friends come and pick, friends of friends come and pick, bags and bags are given away where ever you go. The feeling of giving warms the heart just as the hot Florida sunshine warms the body. (less)
It wasn't until we parted ways that the pain set in. The oppressive silence of solitude deafened me as I was left alone with only my cruel, unreserved thoughts to keep me company.
The instinctive desire to mate screaming at me that my lonesomeness is the result of my(more) failure as a Man; my pride cajoling me that I'm too good for her anyway; my heart weeping from the thought of being alone forever; and my mind reeling from the emotional onslaught raging against it from all angles.
Just as the pain becomes unbearable, my anguish creating the cracks to shatter me into a thousand pieces, I feel a buzzing at my hip. . .
When you hear faith most people will immediately attribute it to religious belief. Faith in one's god and the promise of an afterlife have lead to atrocities all across the globe in the name of an ideology held together by faith.
But the idea of faith is so much(more) more than religious fervor. Faith can simply be the acknowledgement that life goes on. What ever shit may happen today, tomorrow a new sun will rise and you will awake to a fresh start.
To have faith is not weak or naive; faith allows you to take the good with the bad and to live your life without the fear of something coming along that will wreck all your carefully laid plans. It is that fear, that paranoia, that disallows the true expression of ones happiness; for while one is scared of the uncertainty of the future, they are also scared to take the risks which allow for the complete portrayal of one's self.
If you cant be yourself out of the fear that people will not accept you, then you cannot be loved for who you are. If you cannot be loved for who you are, you strive to be someone you are not in order to placate the misconceived notions of what you think you should be like. This road leads to misery and self loathing.
Have faith. People will love you for who you are, don't hide that from them. Take a risk; the sun will shine brighter on each new day as your true self emerges from the shell built by the fear of failure. (less)
Let your breathe lead your motions as you preform the cycles between life and death.
Take a deep inhale as you crack your eyelids at the start of a new day. Exhale as you feel the airy weightlessness of your dreams abandon you and the stiff rigor of lif(more)e begin to sink in.
Inhale the odor of fresh brewed coffee as your first thoughts of the day begin to percolate in your still groggy head. Exhale and you feel the weight of your obligations and the pressures of life press to the forefront of your psyche.
Inhale your feet out from under the covers and exhale as you plant them on the cold, hard floor. A deep inhale propels your body to standing and an exhale grounds you beside your bed.
This is the rhythm of life and will carry you on through your days until you breathe your last.
Let your inhalations bring in all that is good from your surroundings. Let your lungs take in energy and strength from the universe.
And let your exhalations bring you back to Earth.
Whenever you feel the weight of the world and the harshness of mortality crushing down upon you; just remember, breathe. (less)
Every time we do something bad it's always the last time, and for a while, it truly is. Then our tantalizing frontal lobe begins whispering sweet nothings to us. "It's not so bad." "Everyone else does it." "It's not like you're dumb enough to get caught." And lo' and(more) behold, the last time becomes the first time and this time becomes the last time. Thus the cycle continues until in a brief moment of clarity one might look back at the ruinous series of concessions to impulse and realize the folly of their ways. 'Never more shall I succumb to my base urges!' One vows to think with a clear head and live their ideal life. However, the impulses don't go away. Forever gnawing at the forefront of ones thoughts is the desire to toss ones life to the wayside and revel in the pleasure of their given vice. So when confrontation occurs and they face their ruin, all that goes through their heads is, ". . .this will be the last time." (less)
What makes us who we are? What defines us?
Is it our jobs? The meaningful contributions we make towards the betterment of mankind as a whole. From garbage man to doctor, we all contribute in some way to the global machinery that works to sustain us all.
Or i(more)s the work we do simply done in order to support what we're really meant to do, to be happy? Our duty to mankind is done to earn a paycheck and to supplant ourselves in positions of authority and respect wherein we can better satisfy our selfish desires and lusts.
Or does it lie to ones own self to find what defines them? Duty or happiness? Global significance or a life of calm leisure? Whatever one might decide it leaves everything on the other end of the spectrum naught but fluff. (less)
We've never been there before. It's never been seen! What awaits us beyond that far horizon? Is it vast treasure beyond our wildest dreams? Is it a land of plenty wherein all is lush, beautiful, and free? Or is our optimism for naught?
It is entirely possible that what(more) awaits us is a bleak, cold, harsh, inhospitable land. A land where to err is to die and your only constant companion is hardship. We might all die in that damnable land but the gleaming possibility of the life we might live shines brighter than any such darkness can stifle.
So, brothers and sisters, we leave these decrepit shores in search of a new land. Whether or not what we find is an inhospitable hell or heaven on Earth, our futures are our own.
So, my stalwart compatriots, my bold adventurers, and my courageous pioneers, let us debark upon the greatest journey of our lives. To better lands, to better lives, and to freedom! (less)