for you

People come of course.  They bring flashlights, light matches, turn on cell phones, nothing helps.

Not really.  Which is not to say they aren't helpful or kind, truly they are.  But not in the way they think. 

This is a secret darkness no one else understands, their light does not work here.  They worry though.  As they should.


Polarities at play, this is miles away from the ocean you once saw in your teardrop.  Illusions, achingly real ones, left you gasping for air there. 

Not here.  This is the opposite of making something out of nothing.


You've been here before.  It's familiar, like camp.

There's even a campfire here, just for you.  Only for you.  You get close, it's good to feel warm.  You sing the camp songs, tell the stories, relive the memories.  It's a little bit different every time you come.  Different and familiar all at once.

In the end you stomp out the fire.  Kick dirt on the embers. 

All that remains is darkness and one ember that will not cool. 

Do you know what you don't know?  Do you know that fire can purify, forge, refine?

A bonfire lives within that ember, just for you.  A smoldering place, always, forever, as much a part of you as the color of your eyes. 

on the nature of being a hybrid

Or we could call this something about plateaux.  See, it should be plateaus with an "s" in English but that just sounds wrong because it is a French word and its plural is with an "x".

And that's my whole point.

You have been here before, done this before.  This should not be so hard.  You should not feel like you're walking among strangers. Or you should, but you should be able to maintain the proper distance to this particular tableau and see illusion from fact.  You should know that feeling foreign is just part of the painting you have to back up to see.  You should know that any separation you feel is a lie.

But most of all, you should be able to see how damaging shoulds are.

You do not know if this is the place, the one whose cobblestones will welcome you.  Either way, you still need to walk on them. 

Silent Witness

The one who sees the secrets hidden in sound.

Phonemes, syntax, embedded and unspoken structure that rule everything without a single sign of force.  Things that can be counted on.  And you surely did.  You remembered the words, the sounds, the sighs and gestures.  Categorized and filed away, diamonds that engraved the coolest marble.

Hidden away, a weeping willow to protect you, you build a palace out of all that marble.  Cold perhaps, but very sturdy.  Swirls decorate the columns, grooves line the walls, breathtaking carvings everywhere.  From the outside.  From within, brush your fingertips over any surface and you feel what each word held.  Nothing is forgotten here.

A universe of reference at your fingertips.  Use it wisely.