Attending the Opera

— Read on Fabric on the Daily Post

What are we willing to give up? What would i find behind your curtain as i swing it aside? Have you, will you, consider letting me know?

I wait. Anticipate. Is this a game eagerly played by two? Or only i?

Am i setting myself up for your opera. Life over as fast as it started. Slow. Drawn out misery. Ending with a cry of freedom!

A peek behind the madness of death exists behind every curtain. It matters not your fabric woven. The rapacious appetite for breath carries us along.

I do not plan to go anywhere. Neither behind your curtain. Or stand before it. I want to be your covering. Shield you from peering eyes.


The dance of life -Edvard Munch 1899-1900

Since the beginning of time
man yearned to hold
bare hands grabbing the void.
Who knows where thoughts descend
knowledge within himself?
boulders resting on shoulders.

Rocks for sitting and moving and groaning
time expanding and growing, infinitely exploding.

Plans from a power unseen
acknowledging humanity’s innocence green
contemplating our enemies.
Oral stories spread through the land
From where did they come?
the dance of life moving on.

Time between legs inspiring
tucked between the ways of seeing
inquisitive symbols depart thoughts.
Creating in white, red and black
why discovery depicted in painting?
determined to be so clear.

Rocks for sitting and moving and groaning
time expanding and growing, infinitely exploding.

At the beginning

“Exclamation point!!!” said me.

The wheels of the brain are churning and driving along with this thought, I turned into the driveway and paused. What is there? Anywhere? I can move but every room is empty. 

Fear begins at birth. 

Are they smiling at me?

Confusion sets in. Memories flood the senses. You hear the first cry, your own. A wail! You were set free and dropped into a larger sea of stale air and ugly words. 

I just can’t get this life right.

I just cant!
I’ll bring everyone down with me.

Who means anything? To anyone? They don’t treat me right and no one understands. The great teachers, full of wisdom, bleed words. I drink their life in hopes my heart beats strong. Yes! I get it and I see and why can’t their wisdom be what drives the masses?

Chaos rules the world. A drop of rain brings relief until it spreads ripples beyond the intended hurt. One drop is not enough to balm the sorrow felt. One tear spared no one from blame.