Rush

(September 2010)

I stood still here, as still as I could. I watched everyone go by, trying to get things done as soon as they could in this little alley, lined with copiers and people and the smell of ink.

Where are we all going?

Why are we moving so quickly, rushing? When it comes to telling people we love them, we make them wait, we don't tell them how we really feel and just watch them go on and make them wonder. Why then, of all things to give priority to, it's the mundane that we may not remember in detail when we're older. 

Why do we leave the people we love the most crying?

What's the rush?

Delicate

Be still
Hold me.

Against the wind does my heart beat
Screaming in toil and pain

Be still
Hold me

Make the tears fall no more
That it be only the rain to dance on my cheeks. 

Be still
Hold me

As I weep for day, for night, to end
As I hold my hands out but feel nothing in return

Be still, hold me,
For I am delicate. 

Day Ending

The lights have begun to shine.
I imagine a young woman, walking to get a ride  home,  looking around at all the other people, maybe even looking for someone to love. I imagine her wishing she had friends to be with at the moment.
Beneath my flickering light, as I sit and contemplate, I  wonder if she'll ever find him.
She must miss home. She's not the kind to be in a big town alone.
She must be trudging through the sea of people, trying to catch the seven o'clock bus.
I imagine her hope. I imagine the numerous dreams she must have during the day. In some of them, she must be on the bus home, looking around to see who's getting on, where they're sitting and if they're good-looking enough. I imagine how she must feel, to look up at someone who's asking to sit next to her and the way her eyes light up.
She has found him.

But alas, 'tis only a dream.

Keeping Bees

For someone who claims to be a bee keeper, I'm terrible with bees in their literal sense. What are bees like? They sting to protect their everything and die in the process. Much like ourselves, but we don't die. Mostly we end up hurting ourselves. 

In my quest to understand the world around me by mere observations with the naked eye and undressing mind, let my findings be the bees and I their keeper.

Please don't sting.