The Edge of the Wind

I find myself floating about in a moment of serenity.
I'm surrounded by naked trees, too sleepy to notice the cold.
My feet find their discarded clothing in a colorful carpet, and my heart finds joy in each crisp step.
My body is the champion of this hide and seek.

The air is still and grey, almost permeable.
I want nothing more than to touch it,
I know that here other fingers wait, just hidden behind these veils of mist that enchant me.
For a moment, silence sings about how small this world is.

I hear a rushing in the distance.
It breaks the silence, and I turn to find the source.
It grows louder, and suddenly my eyes light upon a mass rolling towards me.
A mass of twisting swirling fallen tree clothes.

The edge of the wind has found me, and it's racing ever closer.
I steady myself, willing my feet to throw roots deep into the ground and hold me in stillness.
The stillness that I know will soon be a moment passed.
The mass, the wall of brilliantly colored leaves, rushes and cascades as the ocean courting the moon.
For a moment there is nothing but the wall and I, just two beings in the entire universe.

The stillness shatters and the rush of power and sound nearly fragment me along with it.
My roots do just enough to keep me upright, and I'm not afraid.
I feel jagged leaf edges kiss my cheeks and caress my hair, leaving tiny red memories behind.
The stinging love doesn't faze me.
The wind simply wants to remind me how green the leaves were,
And how sad they are to have died.

Saving the world.

"I'd like to think I'd do this anyway, but I know that right now I'm saving this stupid world because you're in it. That's all that really matters."

As I grow into my big girl shoes, I'm beginning to fear that this man and his wonderful words only exist in my dreams.

Once in a while, though, just when all seems lost, another hero comes along to give me some hope and remind me that not everyone is looking to take.

The man who wields those dream words, the hero I'm out hunting for, will never leave me with nothing. No matter how much everything I give him, he'll give me everything right back.

I think that's worth saving the world for.

Stairs

Here I climb my solitary stairs,
Tired and sweaty as I grow.
I’m not sure where the climb began.
I can’t remember what the first stair looked like
Or what it felt like when my feet weren’t sore.

For all the time trapped in my mind I have marched:
Up and up, around and around these spiraling stairs,
Unsure where they lead.
I know it’s there though, the end... Of climbing anyway.

There’s something better up there, beyond the stairs.
A place of rest, I think,
Rest from the climbing.

The journey is not monotonous.
Some stairs have been broken before me… Abused.
Sometimes I crumble them beneath my own feet.
It makes it harder not to fall.

I’m tired and sweaty as I grow
Taller, maybe a bit wiser. Definitely more wary.
I watch more and more carefully for jutting crags,
For boulders and gaps in the stairs.
You’d be surprised how invisible they become on these foggy flights.

Sometimes I want to stop, just rest a while,
But when I look back I see that the stairs are gone,
Vanished behind me and fading beneath me.
There is nothing, or the climb.

The end is something I can’t see
I don’t know where it is,
I don’t know what it will look like,
And yet I feel no fear.

I hear whispers about the end.
They say many different things.
Here it is bliss, here it is torment,
Here it is even nonexistent: the stairs just stop then nothing.

It might be true, that last one.

Though I like to muse it's everything,

Nothing wouldn't be so bad.

I could return to the nothing and dream forever.

But for now, at least,
I am tired and sweaty as I grow.

I will climb.

Excerpts from the world between yesterday and tomorrow.

The sun is brighter than usual when you're around.
It's like your laugh makes it smile.
The sound always makes me glow a little,
Wakes me up in the middle of the night with a joy that breaks my heart.
My dreams aren't the best artists, they never quite capture the magic of it.
Someday you'll laugh for me again, but until then I'll wake up sad.
It's so much better than forgetting your laugh altogether.

---

Once in a while I battle dragons.
Sometimes they take me down, but that's only when I don't have you to fight for.
I conquer mountains of enemies in the night for all of you.
Suspenseful dreams are only nightmares when I can't rescue my little world.

---

Songs try to write themselves at night.
I don't know why, but I love the sad ones best.
Maybe it's because they're familiar?
More likely it's that they've survived not being okay.
The loop of familiarity and denial is a deadly constant, but a constant it is.

---

Thoughts like to think that they're slimmer than they really are.
The maximum occupancy of my mind is always pushed to the brink when I lay my head down.
For me, rest has always been a shy little creature.
I think it's afraid to join in, to create a place within my mind to make an impression.
I look forward to the day it calls ahead for reservations.
Until then I hope my thoughts try a diet.

Maybe

Maybe I’ll be taken back
To cleaner spaces
Familiar, bright
Maybe they will steal me away
To much happier places
Of warmth and light.

Maybe I’ll find peace again
Within my soul,
My heart might mend.
Maybe those I love and miss
Will remember me,
And the pain will end.

Maybe I won’t make it through
This harsh new task,
The darkness pressing.
Maybe friendly blackness wraps around
This girl at last
A better dressing.

Maybe I can fight it away from me,
Though sad and scared,
Not solitary.
Maybe I will grow up stronger,
Choose to move on
And not to tarry.

Maybe I will be okay
Though life keeps throwing
Bricks at me.
Maybe because I’ll find someone
Who needs this girl
And we’ll just be.

Lamplight

I huddle in lamplight that emanates gently from above, seemingly present only to wrap itself like a blanket over my shoulders. I am in dire need of the comfort. There seems to be a misunderstanding: I am not here to hurt anyone. From the get-go, from the very first breath that I took of this planet's less than fresh air, I only desired one thing. I never wanted the mistakes that are inevitably made within this accursed world, I never wanted the regret and misery that come with them. All I ever wanted was to love and to help, to be a warrior of light and a bringer of peace to my fellow short-term residents. At this I have failed, and my failure claws at my burning skin.

I know that I'm alone here. Eyes may try to pry through my veil of lamplight, but I know that the glowing blanket is an effective and impenetrable shield against them. I can stand here hugging my arms tightly to myself, holding myself together, in complete solitude. Never mind the blackest of mistakes I've made pressing in on all sides, never mind the red and burning pain that I have given others without intent. What has been done cannot be undone, and I know now that trying will get me no where. It does not matter that my sole desire is to set things right, better than right if I can. It doesn't matter that my heart has been broken time and time again by my own free will. All that matters is I've found this kind lamp to hold me here and to keep me safe. I need time to regrow the limbs that have been bitten off by the wounded dogs as I've tried to make amends. Here, I think, is the place to find myself again.

Seconds, days, months go by before I begin to think again. Time means nothing to the gentle glow and I. However, I soon realize that I am truly and completely alone. No one has told me what to do, where to go. No one has appeared to heal me or to hurt me. This revelation neither inspires nor discourages me. It simply sets my hitherto blank mind on the path of thought. I look down at my tiny self, soft and sore looking in the lamplight. Scarred. Torn. I am bruised and tattered, and worry touches my mind. Am I frightened that I've been injured, or am I afraid to know that I can be broken? That I am not, in fact, invincible. As I gaze down at my wounds, my eyes fall upon my hands... Bloody. The emotion this awakens surprises me. Rather than guilt or fear, I simply feel disappointment settle itself into my heart. The blood is, in fact, mine.

The truth hits, and it hits hard. I am unbalanced, and I retain my ground only through the soft warm support of the lamplight glowing around my tattered frame. No one has hurt me, and I haven't harmed another. The pure misguided intent behind my actions, the offense I've taken at those of others, these are the knives that have cut me, have made me bleed and cry out for comfort. The souls that suffer for my ignorance fall only at their own volition. I am disappointed at my little hands. Why have they blamed me for the pain of the world, why have they not defended the little body they were to cherish?

As these thoughts begin to flow through my dammed and muddied mind, the scars begin to fade. The cuts and abrasions, the bruises and the broken bones all melt away, leaving behind nothing but the warm glow of lamplight upon my skin. Finally, as I stare at the tiny appointed defenders in awe, the crimson of my self infliction vanishes. Clean hands.

After what must have been a millennia, what must have been no time at all within my tiny cloak of comfort, my muscles relax. I stand tall and gaze around me. Black and red still swirl and dance around each other, a mass still intent upon breaking through my glowing protection. I start as I realize there is no lamp post beside me, no glowing globe above me. Where has my lamp, my protector, gone? But the light remains, still soft and warm and hardened against the blackness.

I look down once more at my own form, still bathed in brightness, and it is now that I understand what the source of my glowing protection is. A little bubble of joy grows within my chest. It rises and expands until it finally bursts from me, becoming laughter and purpose. The glow, the safety that envelopes and protects me comes not from outside, not from above, but from within my own heart.

I feel the peace within me wash outward and the swirling chaos falters. I walk on.

I'll let you smash my dreams all over again
And that's just on the premise of a maybe.
But no matter how this love story ends
You will always drive me crazy.