Eternal toil

The young ones were running around like crazy again, harassing the dogs and the women working. The old chief smiled to himself, all the men were out on a hunting party, and the children were full of mischief. Soon, the chief knew, the children would wear thin the patience of those going about day-to-day life. Then there would be lots of scolding and hurt feelings.
To stop this from happening, the chief called for the children to come to him. "Come," he called, "you spirits of the wind, come and sit for a minute by my fire. Come and let me tell you of a story." The children slowed their rambunctious play and made their way to the chief's fire. He might be old, but he still commanded the respect of all the tribe.
"Gather round, and let me tell you a tale." the chief began.
"What kind of tale?" asked young Bees in Flight.
"oh, a tale of great importance," replied Winter's snowfall, the old chief.
"Tell us a tale about Che'Kahn, the mighty Bear warrior, Winter's snowfall," begged little Beaver's tail.
"No, I am going to tell you the tale of Arisk." Winter's snowfall stated.
"Arisk was a young brave at the start of our story. Arisk was normal in all ways. He could hunt with the best of the hunters, he had killed many Deer and Bear. But he was not the best of hunters. He had participated in many was raids against the Navajo, but he wasn't the greatest of warriors. When the elders sat to discuss the weighty matters of the nation, Arisk would sit with them and smoke the pipe and make many good suggestions, but he wasn't not one of the respected elders. Arisk was good at many things, yet he was never the best at anything. Because he couldn't excel at any one thing, he had trouble with the ladies of the tribe. He always found himself rejected and therefore alone.
This bothered Arisk greatly and finally, one day, Arisk approached the wisest and eldest of elders, Great White Elk. 'Great White Elk,' Arisk began, 'I am a man of the tribe, yet I am not great at any one thing. The women of the tribe look past me because I am not man enough to stand out, I haven't found any way to gain my man name.' For it was true, Arisk still bore the name of youth, haven't attained his man name.
Great White Elk thought for a long minute. Finally, slowly, he spoke. "If you want to know what you are great at, you must go out into the wilderness and make a sacrifice to the Ancestors. Ask them to show you your inner strength. Then you will know what you are great at."
Arisk nodded, eager to be on his way, and thanked Great White Elk. As fast as he could, Arisk gathered his belongings and headed out into the wilderness. He would make a sacrifice to the Ancestors, and they would bless him with a gift. Then he would be the greatest.
For two days, Arisk traveled deeper into the desert searching for that right place. Finally feeling like he had found it, Arisk went in search of a goat to make a sacrifice of. Soon, the ceremony complete, Arisk sat back and waited for the voice of the Ancestors to speak to him and give him his gift. Arisk waited, and waited and waited. Time passed and Arisk started to get hungry and tired. But he was afraid of moving lest he anger the Ancestors and missed the gift they were bringing him. Hours passed, day faded into night, and still Arisk sat and waited.
Finally, as Arisk was falling into a trance, a voice spoke softly. "Arisk, why are you here?"
Stirring, Arisk replied, "I am here for my gift, the gift that will make me the greatest."
Moments passed with no reply. Arisk was afraid that he had imagined the voice after all. Then it came again, soft as before, "And then what, once you have your gift, then what will you do?"
Arisk replied quickly, without hesitation, "I will be able to go back to the tribe and become a man and take my bride. I will be a member of the tribe and help provide for my brethren."
The silence stretched even longer this time. Arisk was starting to get uncomfortable. Maybe he had angered the voice by not being great enough. After what seemed an eternity, the voice gave it's final instructions. "Only a true Sioux can be the greatest. You must stay here and grow a crop of corn before we will give you your gift, Arisk. Once you have grown the corn, we will come back and give you your gift."
And with that there was a flash and the voice was gone. At Arisk's feet was a leather skin full of corn seeds. Arisk looked around and wondered how he would ever grow corn in this arid desert. The voice must be insane. But Arisk knew that if he left, there wouldn't be any gift for him. And without that gift of greatness, Arisk couldn't return to his tribe. So Arisk started searching for some sort of water. Soon he found a grouping of brush, a good sign that there was some sort of underground water nearby. Laboriously, and with a great deal of sweat, Arisk managed to get the water flowing out of the ground, then he proceeded to dig trenches to hydrate the ground. Then he planted the seeds. Knowing the seeds wouldn't grow overnight, Arisk went about setting up shelter so he could tend his crops.
Days turned into weeks, and turned into months, but with care and alertness, Arisk managed to bring a crop of corn into this work. Finally with the corn harvested, Arisk sat down and called to the voice once more. Nothing happened. Arisk called louder, more incessantly, with the same outcome. No one responded, no voice came, no gift. Nothing.
Arisk was disgusted, all this time working with corn, planting it, weeding the ground, tending the water, making sure that the corn had the right environment to grow.  And this is how the Ancestors repaid him, with silence? Arisk was mad. He got up to leave when he heard the voice. "Oh, so quick to leave are we? Now at the end?"
Arisk froze. The Ancestors were here, they had kept their word afterall. Arisk was silent. Choosing his words with care, Arisk spoke, "I planted the corn as you asked, I tended it and then harvested it. I did everything in my power to do as you asked, can I now have my gift, the one that will make me great?"
The voice laughed a little, then replied, "you have always had your gift, you just needed to learn to be patient so you could find it.""
Winter's snowfall was silent for a moment. The young children looked around in puzzlement. This story hadn't made much sense. The old chief spoke once more, "You see children, Arisk had everything he already needed to be great within him. But by trying too hard and looking in the wrong places for greatness, Arisk could never see it. It was only once he became patient and willing to tend something to fruition that he actually discovered the greatness in himself."
The look of understanding dotted the faces of the children. Most had gotten the message, the other children were mulling it over, but Winter's snowfall felt they would eventually get it. Smiling, he look around. The women going about their tasks were gone now, onto another task. The children were safe to play again without scoldings. "Go, children, go play and look for the greatness inside you."
And with a squeal of pleasure, the children ran back out into the field.
Winter's snowfall smiled to himself. "Oh the joys of being a child," he thought. 

Memories of a sound now silenced

The dark presses in, with it the memories.
The music plays lightly, quietly, as if to respect the heaviness of my heart. It's here, in the darkness, in the silence that I miss you the most. I miss your laughter, your smile. I can almost hear the way you said my name. The music plays on, unheard, my ears hear only your voice.
In the silence of the night, I can hear your hearts cries. I know what it needs, it screams to me. There is no denying it. I know you try, I can see it eat at you. I know you only know peace when you can hear my voice. Yet, you refuse to call, you refuse to admit what is hidden in your heart. You know if you open your mouth, you will say that which you try to deny. Once said, it can never go back. So you avoid the situation altogether, pretending it will go away. Pretending you aren't misrable. You live a lie that slaps you in the face every time you look in the mirror.
I know all of this, because I know you. I know you hear footsteps and look to see if it's me. I know you check your phone constantly, hoping I will call or text. And still denying it to yourself that you desperately want to hear my voice.
I can't forget, it's in my bloodstream, there is no escape. So I lay here in the dark, dreaming of you. Memories are all that's left to me. C'est la vie.

Phone call

His hands were sweating profusely. He couldn't believe he was  actually going to do this. Alex cleared his throat nervously, unsure what was to come.
He picked up the phone, haltingly dialing the numbers. It seemed an eternity passed before the phone rang. Every second made his heart pound that much faster.
The phone rang three times, he was suddenly fearful that he would get her voicemail. On the fourth ring, a slightly older male voice answered. "Hello?"
It was her brother. Alex opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"Hello?!" The word came gruffer and slightly annoyed.
Managing to force the words out, Alex replied breathlessly, "Hello, is Margaret there?"
His heart pounded in his chest like a stallion running free. "Yeah, hang on. (muffled yelling "margaret phone, some weirdo for you)"
The seconds passed like years, each one echoing in his head.
Finally, a voice came on the other line "hello?"
It was her, Alex's voice caught as he tried to answer. "he-hey, margaret, ho-how are you?"
"Who is this?"came her tart reply. Margaret was busy and not happy to be disturbed.
"it's Alex, from school." "Who?" "Alex, you know, the guy you cheat off of in math?"
"Oh, hey. So what do you want?" Margaret was not happy, he wasn't part of her circle and therefore shouldn't be bothering her like this.
"Well, I called to ask you to the dance," Alex said in a breathy rush.
"ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha"

New song that caught my ear

"Fiction"

Fiction, when we're not together
Mistaken for a vision, something of my own creation
I wake up alone, with only daylight between us
Last night the world was beneath us, tonight comes, dear love
Were we torn apart by the break of day?
You're more than I can believe, would ever come my way

Fiction, when we're not together
Mistaken for a vision, something of my own creation
Come real love, why do I refuse you?
Cause if my fear's right, I risk to lose you
And if I just might wake up alone
Bring on the night

Fiction, when we're not together
Mistaken for a vision, something of my own creation
Any certainties, how am I to tell?
I know your face all too well, still I wake up alone

Fiction, when we're not together

Dying felt so damned good today

If I was ever alive, well it's hard to say.
I lived once, in your arms, gazing into your eyes.
I knew heaven in your smile.
The days are cold and dark without the sunshine.
After over a week with rainy Seattle weather, we finally get sun and nice weather. But can I enjoy it? Ohhh no, I get sick. Feels like my lungs are hardening. Worries me a bit considering my uncle died of mesothelioma. I'll live, but until then, I'm complaining and whining like a baby. I wish you were here to take care of me.
How is it written words can convey so much information without a thing being said? Inference.
Oh to hear those keys jingling, the lock unturning. My life will continue to remain empty until then.
I have no regrets, it is what it is. I can't be any less than what I am, and what I am demands the whole thing or nothing.
Are you surprised? did you expect anything different? I fell by the wayside, an afterthought, forgotten. Ignore me and I leave. I know when I'm not wanted.
I am the ghost in the wind, the whisper of your name on the breeze. I am the hand on shoulder when no one is around, I am the warm feeling deep in the fabric.

Nirvana or some facsimile of it

I have reached a state of inner peace and consciousness. Nirvana. I see things so clearly now.
But then I have always known my future. Things make so much sense. There's no more bull, no confusion.
There is no more games, no more excuses. No more laughter, no more happy eyes.
Peace and quiet and solitude.

Shadows of a memory

The rain fell softly of the window. Little patters of noise. The kind of sound that makes one glad to be inside and dry.
The heater rumbled it's chattering noise, the orange glow of heat radiating out and filling the room. The sound was comforting, being warm was desirable.
The weather was cold and nasty, a rain that never seemed to end. He knew he couldn't stay hidden here forever, but that day seemed a long time away at the moment.
The bed was warm and comfortable. He pulled the covers up tight, enjoying the softness he experienced. It was a losing battie.
He tried to forget. Pretending she wasn't real, that it had all been some fantasy of his imagination. He knew the lie for what it was. Even the thought rang hollow.
He knew he had experienced more than most men. Loved and lost two fantastic women, made a fortune only to see it vanish, and he had once been a father.
Memories were all that was left for him. He had chosen his path long ago. There  never was another that could have replaced her, so he never bothered to look, just accepted the life given.
Remorse has set in, he wished the rain would wash away his memories. Wash it all away.
The rain fell softly and with it came the memories.