Every time i sit down and collect my thoughts in my notepads and leaflet books i always run into the same pesky dilemma. My handwriting is indecipherable when crammed into such a small space. The majority of my writing is usually done while sitting on my balcony or overlooking my garden, all the time without a table or a suitable stable platform which is recommended to gain the leverage necessary to create neat writing, so often times i am literally unable to read my own writing. Im over this crap, time to bust out the real notebook, Im talking college ruled, spiral, fall asleep on when my Science teacher rants about the human skeletal structure notebook.
I was in the middle of writing a poem about Marie when I began to lose track due to my perpetually cluttered way of thinking and inability to properly rhyme words, so naturally I was bound to trip up. Then again, I do find it a challenge to recount the time spent with my darling Marie because there is quite frequently too much to convey in one scribe of text. It renders my words at a loss when i think of the way she laughs when i mention an absurd notion in my head because i can tell that she radiates the purest form of joy, the kind that draws me closer to her like a white hot lamp draws a moth to its luminescence on a moonless night as well as the upwelling in the center of my chest when i know that she will again be the brightness of my day by sharing her own thoughts with me in drawn out phone conversations that no matter the langth, i cant help but wish they could last just a bit longer. The times with Marie I find the most difficult to describe, however are those in which we discovered something inside of each other's hearts that show us that this lonely and rugged road which we travel need not be walked alone. To walk alone is a burden which is measured in false hope and disillusioned ideas, and to walk with a partner is to share an intimate bond of loving compassion and understanding that would be worth far more than every lost treasure buried in the passing sand of time. This road is not highway with pitstops and exits or speed limits or signs that tell us how much further to the next rest area, only a simple path with lots of mile markers. I am going to go ahead and mark this as another stake in the ground to represent how far away i have come since my humble road began, where the next will go and how far it will read is anyones guess, but i can only hope that the thought of it helps me to clear my mind.
To my loyal reader(s) {optimism is key when you have a limited following, or no following at all in my case} i say good night and happy trails.
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