Tag Archives: soul

Keep Your Eyes on the Driver

you can tell a lot about a person just by taking a short drive with them. are they safe? do they take risks? are those risks calculated? do they ask you if you are hot/cold? or do they automatically turn the music down/change the station for you (because they’re embarrassed). when you’re cold, are they sweating because they turned the temperature up to make you happy? do they sing along? do they just focus on the road, or do they turn away from the windshield to look you in the eye? do they take the time to notice the sights and sounds? or are they distracted and text while drifting into another lane, and only correcting suddenly when you bring it to their attention? It doesn’t take long to notice that we’re not talking about driving anymore. That much is clear.

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“Life is a buffet line where you can’t go back for seconds.”

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Memorial

You come home to a house you’ve kept clean for a week solid after spring cleaning, but today you are tired. You drop your stuff on the floor and go to the kitchen to grab some snacks. You’ve worked hard this week. You decide you deserve a treat. You can’t remember the last time you had a milkshake. You scoop out the ice cream, Oreos, chocolate syrup, and some more ice cream, and hold the “blend” button. The blender decides that now is a good time to commit suicide and grind its gears, and not your milkshake, until you hear a pop and see a little wisp of smoke trail away from your newly departed appliance. You now understand the phrase ‘giving up the ghost,’ but you still don’t have a milkshake. You find yourself on the couch minutes later with a long spoon and the top half of the blender in your hand, scraping out the last bites of your milkstir, and realizing that the top half of the blender actually isn’t a bad way to eat a snack. It even has a handle and a spout. Over the next few weeks you keep using the top half of the blender to eat while the bottom half still sits plugged in on your counter top. No, it still doesn’t work. And now you’ve gotten used to it being there that it has just become part of the kitchen counter; a fixture, a statue, a memorial even. A few months later you invite friends over and one of them gets really drunk and asks you why you couldn’t just make margaritas from scratch when the blender is sitting right there. You tell him, “oh, it doesn’t work.” Like it’s supposed to not work. And he just stares at you for a little while because he’s obviously drunk, and nothing is wrong with you, or the blender.

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Tumbleweeds

I don’t know much about reincarnation, but from what I’ve gathered, it seems like the soul is like a tumbleweed. It grows throughout it’s life, and then when it is time it actualizes, or maybe just then, it first realizes its purpose as it leaves its roots behind and wanders until it finds somewhere to rest. And it starts all over again.

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Caterpillar

Hollow and vacant he froze there at last
—alone, abandoned— a shell of his past.
The living cage, the bane of this man,
releases his soul in new form cast.

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A Wish

A strange young man from far away
With clothing ragged, torn, and frayed,
Approached a maiden by the bay
Whereon the grassy shore she lay.
He kissed her hand and asked if they
Could dance beside the ocean’s spray.
Before she spoke, a soothing wave
Of pleasure and contentment paved
A trail they followed to the shade
Wherein he held her, and they swayed,
And formed their love from hallowed clay.
With him, she would not fall astray,
Or end up lost and in a daze.
Amazed, she questioned, “If I may;
Why dost thou act in such display?”
“My precious flow’r, you needn’t gray
And troubled skies for one to aid
Thee and surmise that no bouquet
Would serve a prize or could convey
Behind your eyes of radiant jade
What passion lies that we have made.
The ways of old, I have betrayed,
And thus thy wishes I obey.”
And then for every smile she made,
A rose he set across her gaze.
Each star above that they surveyed,
He kissed her cheek in doting play.
And if her lips did give him praise,
He furnished her a tender phrase.
They huddled ‘neath the moonlit haze
‘Til dew-drops claimed the break of day,
But morning wrought a somber shay.
His eyes were clouded, glazed, and gray.
Now old and weakened, down he lay.
She quivered as he withered away,
And watched wearily, his soul fade
With nothing more than this to say,
“Remember passion—love; I pray.
My dearest one, I long to stay,
But Fate binds me to my dismay.
I grieve no act, but parting ways,
As my wish was love for just one day.”

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