unicidades

When music hits my soul. Inevitably. You are here with me and a tear drops. I'm not sure what happened to the walls. The wind is blowing and my face burns. I read your words. Your riddles. I went silent. Shocked perhaps by the audacity. It was a surprise.  I have my own riddles.  This.  I have known this song for more than thirty years. It always touched me. Now I know why. Now that I understand the words. It makes sense. Imagine not having that love anymore.  I have sounds to keep me company, like this one  and this one . Pay close attention to the words.  It seems like we always run in circles, doesn't it?  And no, I don't want to drop you a note. Have you become single recently? Are you in town? Are you going to give me an ultimatum like the last time?  Things have changed. I am tired. I am exhausted. I have no energy for games. Never have, but now. Now things are different. Time does weigh into the equation. Now that runs so deep. I do carry you in the heavy stone my he

The Roseate Spoonbill Photo by Dan Garver Location:  Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge in Boynton Beach. I am an avid enthusiast of beauty. Few things I like more than the sky and the ocean. And birds carry so much intrinsic beauty. I don't write much anymore. Somehow my energy has diverged. I feel stifled by life at the moment. 

Unresolved pain. Nostalgia. Fire. Vivid dreams at night. Immense love.  I read the other day something an old friend once told me. Go back to what you were good at when you were a child. That's where your natural talent is. I go back, and so many things come up. So many interests. Infinite curiosity. I loved words when I was a child. But I also loved animals and nature. I also loved music and poetry. The beach made me go without sleep. I also loved to dance. I remember attracting people's comments while dancing at parties. Not because I was good but because I did my own thing.  I also liked cooking and baking from an early age. Books were also my private world.  But who am I now, forty years later?  I listen to Riccardo Cocciante, and my heart fills with raw emotion. How can someone be so good and write the most beautiful songs? I need to understand Italian better, but what I know and feel with his songs is beyond anything material.  The power of art has to move us. That streng

I used to think I was good with words.  Until Today was a special day.  I am afraid there's no way the blend we are will ever change/disappear. For good or bad. You are with me in the things I see. The lasting memories. I move forward in the empty space that is possible. I carry your heart. I saw a leaf heart last night. I don't believe in signs, not anymore. But there it was. A big heart, a big leaf. And the memory of you. The blue memory of you.  Marrying someone else will not change what we were.  I read the other day about biocentrism and how death doesn't really exist. How time doesn't exist. Sometimes I sense five years haven't really happened gone by. It's a physical experience. I relive our experiences in my head. I wish I had more memories. I wish I could remember more.  That's all I know.  At last, sound and scent. 

 I am tired, and my body hurts. I have been studying non-stop for almost three years, and I haven't had the time to think (an exercise I praise and miss). Thinking connects me to feelings. I stand here a month a half away from graduating. I persisted when I wanted to rest. I rested when it was not possible to keep going. I pushed my physical and intellectual abilities and limitations to obtain this degree. I am inspired to help others.  A friend today commented on how good of a student I am. I am not. My attention is fleeing and flows away from me. It's just 100% effort and a constant battle to focus and concentrate.  I had to stop looking and finding meaning because I was burning. The candle burns at both ends. That poem is not mine but suits me well. The journey is long, and it has just started. This experience has taught me so much more than a skill. I am inspired. I hope the sacrifice will be worth it. 

 Found this song recently and it did find me too. It is a  song for posterity.  High on a Mountain Ola Belle Reed High on the mountain oh wind a blowing free thinking about the days that used to be. High on the mountain standing all alone wondering where the years of my life have flown. As I look at the valleys down below they were as green just as far as I could see. As my memory turned oh how my heart did yearn for you and the days that used to be. High on the mountain oh wind a blowing free thinking about the days that used to be. High on the mountain standing all alone wondering where the years of my life have flown. Oh, I wonder if you ever think of me or if time has blotted out your memory. As I listen to that breeze whisper gently through the trees I'll always cherish what you meant to me. High on the mountain oh wind a blowing free thinking about the days that used to be. High on the mountain standing all alone wondering where the years of my life have flown.