Now there's a thought

If your god does not dance,
slay him with laughter.
If not laughter,
then destroy him by treachery
and take his place.
This worlds holds no peace
for the powerless among you,
and compassion is reserved only
for those strong enough to afford it.

Random Haiku

Infidelity

your darkened conscience
discrete infidelity
my illusions' real

What's a girl to do...
romantic dinner
lascivious minded
husband does not hear

Sunset
sunset fire
dreams are made there
in the heart

Privacy
privacy
the moon behind the sun
slips away

The Dandelion
sowing seeds of life
my hand brushes
the dandelion

Noise
chatter from all sides
mixing together as one
means nothing to me

Silent Cries
my soul knew
my heart wouldn’t listen
my mind cried out

Busy Day
twenty-two hundred
the day has sped away fast
thirty minutes gone

# posted by Sweetest Distraction @ 07:24

Unfinished - Bluff of Dreams

So there I was, standing at the edge of my life, peering cautiously into the great unknown that is adulthood. I glanced for a moment behind me into that vast valley that I was to leave behind. Lots of skeletons there, embarrassing moments, disappointments of every shape and size, the pain and anguish of my teen years. It was, in essence, where I had come from, the stuff of which I was made. It stretched on for miles, a veritable wasteland, an absolute pit of despair.

It was time. Time to look beyond the ruins, the memories, the nameless graves, the lost loves, the piles of rubbish, the remnants of the past. Time to blow the dust off the bottle, sift through the ashes, wander the rubble and shove aside the skeletons. It was time to shed the veil of youth and innocence and venture forth into the great unknown.

I had, through all of those intensely painful growing years, looked forward with unabashed glee to the day I could proclaim myself an adult. I so wanted to be that sophisticated, wise, confident and strong woman I had envisioned in my daydreams. I desperately longed to erase my painful, clumsy, awkward youth and be reborn into this new person, this "adult."

This "adult" status was somehow supposed to protect me from all of those old hurts. The band aids would come off, the wounds would be healed and forgotten and the dreams I had spent a lifetime weaving were about to be mine. Finally. It was a fairy tale of grandiose and epic proportions.

And still I stood there, teetering on the bluff of dreams, surveying the vast and sudden emptiness of the future and I began to doubt. Where were the feelings of empowerment? Where was the bright future I had been promised? Where was my prince charming? And most importantly, who was this half child, half woman and why was she standing on a cliff with her feet shaking and her hands trembling and her heart filled with both trepidation and yearning?

Is that really me? Am I really the person they said I was? Does my existence have purpose? Am I doomed to the nine to five rat race that I see before me. Will I forever hear the drone of the worker bees, trying desperately to keep up with the expectations of the queen? Worse yet... will I be one of those worker bees? It's this eternal race against an imaginary clock that frightened me most. It's the fear of not meeting my goals, of not accomplishing, that had my hands trembling and my feet shifting in the sand on the bluff of dreams. The "F" word popped into my head and made me sweat. Failure. My fairytale did not include the possibility; Failure is simply not an option.

While I ponder my place in this world, time continued to march on at the same pace it always has. The minutes, the hours and finally the days, slipped quietly and quickly away and before I realized it, time had gotten away from me like a run-away freight train. It didn't go unnoticed that I'd only accomplished a tiny fraction of what I always intended. The realization hit me, that this new person I became, this adulthood I achieved isn't at all what I expected.

A Prayer For The Parched

The monsoon has arrived.. or has it? Each day as dusk approaches the sky darkens to a rich velvety hue, the sunset glows deep oranges and reds, the wind picks up a bit and the walls of dust creep in from the east. And the valley waits and collectively holds it’s breath and watches as the lightening strikes dance across the horizon, and the thunder cracks like the beat of a drum at a tribal rain dance.

And so it goes… evenings are planned around the impending storms and there’s talk of easing the multi-year drought. We ponder the wildfires and comment on the rain that will put them out, never once acknowledging that the torrent of new lightening strikes will surely start new fires. The tales of violent storms past are told and there's a nodding thought to the possibility of much worse. Everyone, it seems, is dressed and ready for the ball.

And so it goes… all dressed up, with no where to go. For the humidity that makes us miserable – sticky, sweating and sweltered, and the dust that invades like ants at a family picnic, are alone in their onslaught. For there is no rain, no dance partner, no watershed, no easing of the drought, and no quenching of our parched land. We are left tasting dust in our mouths and the lonely feeling of having been stood up, yet again.

And so it goes… day after relentless day of heat, humidity, dust and thunderstorms. It comes and teases us like a lover would. Smiling down upon us, not with the rain we so desperately seek, but with a stunning show of Mother Nature’s finest work.

As Mother Nature continues her striptease and the fireworks dazzle us with their brilliance, the anticipation grows and we wait with baited breath for the rain that surely must be about to fall.

And so it goes… another day spent on our knees, with our heads bend in silent prayer for the rain we so desperately need.