Song of Ramble

Setting forth a course in range
Onto life’s other stage
Filled with depth and mystery
Step by step challenging gravity
Unlock the door and step inside
That it was never locked is what you’ll find
But now you’re here what shall you do?
When opportunity bears down on you
To have what you want may bring fear
To have what you need erects a mirror
Reflecting back into your eyes
That life itself is the real prize

In the garden, when dusk had settled in and nights sky darkened everything around it, Stephanie would wade out into the middle of the worn out bricks. Within the circle she crouched low, her sunset dress puffed out onto the ground creating waves of flowing fabric all around her. In the density of those summer nights, when it was so hot that you seemed to choke on your own breath, I would watch her perform. With the illusion of being alone firmly placed in her mind she gave all feelings and emotions over to the unpredictability that arises when all thoughts cease and nothing is left but action. With a quarter moon perched ever so lightly above her head, she lifted her arms out towards nothing yet she was grasping at something. In a moment she sprung from the ground and was making wild leaps into the air. I could not help but laugh. Through these movements she resembled a grasshopper who had lost her legs and now thrashed about because to lay still would mean defeat and to no longer be a hopper. If she did hear my laughter she never led on. Like a proud queen she kept her gaze and chin in arching suspense while her whole being crashed and rose with heaps of energetic splendor. As time wore on her breathing became labored. She stopped. Turning around she stared directly into my direction. With a flutter of quick movements she strode over to my hiding place. I tried to run but was caught from behind with a hard blow from her heel.

The guard rails shoot up towards the heavens and the fortress is founded from the inside. Draw the lines between freedom and suffocation. There was a time when the feelings of independence and life fired through the veins like a shot of dilaudid. Ohhhhh, that wave, that rush! Both the freedom and the drug invigorate yet I would choose the natural high simply because of the opportunities that lie within it.

When Adrian was a boy the lights flickered like fireflies in a glass jar. Clarity was not found when looking from the outside in. The jar's labels had faded and its round edges were scuffed from years of use. A soft haze hovered like a cloud marring its transparency.

Stepped off the path and green leaves were found sprinkled along trampled footprints. Dancing Bears and fire sticks that blinded the eyes were no longer amusing. Onto something rich. Richer. Or poorer. Left to worry about payments that were taken care of by another. No longer able to stand on ones own 2 feet. Difficult to grasp. It grasps around the throat and strangles until the gurgling noises of stressed air pulse out through the nostrils and lips. The rosy ones that spoke of sweet times that were now distant yet not so far removed as attempts were made to make to a return. Spring in fall conjures up feelings of being out of step with the life cycle yet it is better than feeling like winter in fall or winter in summer for that matter. Matters most when one is no longer able to differentiate one season from the next and they all melt into a conglomeration of days that never end, just slipping into a purplish black then awaken as orange heats up the morning sky. But on the way towards the clearing clenched teeth are beginning to loosen and speaking becomes tempered and easy.