Hush!

Isn't it odd how the things you want most in life are the self same that you daren't voice out loud? How quickly and effortlessly you hush the yearnings and pleadings of your heart while succumbing to the temptations of the flesh with nary thought. How loudly you bemoan the shallowness of your parents never-ending pockets and whinge about the sparseness of your overflowing wardrobe for all to hear yet guard with jealousy that which you covet above all else.

You suppress and oppress for fear a syllable of sound may shatter the fragile crystal-spun whisper and in its stead offer a multitude of alternatives - coarse and hard - to be flung from mouth to mouth in the careless abandon of conversation. How protective that your deepest desires remain untainted, unsullied by the commonness of talk.

And so you stand guard before the crevices of your heart where they lay hidden from prying eyes.

And in years to come as your feeble heart continues to pound out its slow-dying beat will you dust off the jealously guarded secret and gaze longingly into its depths, glad that it has been kept safe, sound, untouched, unblemished, protected ?

You may well ask what frail whisper I hide that brought on this tirade...

Hush!

Mortal Conflict

When Life throws you lemons, you make lemonade.
When Life throws you a curve ball you hit it out of the park.
When Life sends showers to cool your parched throat....

Dare I ask for wine?

Do I dare and do I dare...

I managed by some incredible twist of fate to come away with my 3 A's. I've fulfilled the conditions of my university offers. So is it wrong of me, am I asking for fickle Fate to give me a good hard kick in the ass if i want to redo my Law paper in the hopes of turning that jarring, excruciating C into the triumphant chorus of an A??

Is it? Am I?

Do I dare?

Dare to dream of sliding on the rings of Saturn as I stride across the mooon?

Dare to ask, nay challenge for all that Life promises to its subjects yet gives but sparingly to the few who dare.
Who dare destroy the barricades of Fate and demand that which is their birthright. All that was sweetly whispered into their infant ears, new to the world. But was swiftly ripped asunder as skillful Fate, by slow deceit, extinguished one by one the lilting promises of Life.

But do I dare?

Children

Finally, I've found a writer that has put to words the fragmented thoughts that have been swirling inside my head for ages, and far more eloquently than I could ever have.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that is arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Kahlil Gibran (The Prophet)

(my next reading assignment)