There is no personal reason based in some research paper that I have read. Only stories as to how I am and how I got to this point in my life. I know that as I developed deeper into who I am and how to have successful passage through my aging years. I know that it is important for me to get my stories unleashed. I can see my path unfolding in developing a structure. I never had to work as hard, until now. I’ve realized as my doctor told me as I age I had to work harder, I also say I have to work smarter. Being smart is something I have cultivated or at least what I thought might qualify as smarts. A lot of formal education and I am continually working within my process to find a way of looking at my life in a lighter fashion. I joke that God knew not to give me to main letters or titles. If I went after a Doctorate I knew I might have been insufferable and ended up with heart failure for being entirely wound without release. However that’s a moot point. I love to make light or I once love to chase education. Now I am learning how to manage my work method. Unleashed feelings I never knew.
I have held and lived perhaps carrying so many memories within, I had held most of my stories in check. Rarely did I talk about my past with men I’ve known. I was beginning to see my need to tell stories to someone. My pathology is such that I want to value every moment with love and live in some positive wonderland where I continually create pretty cerebral picture.
Now after jumping from flirtations to flirtation, my looking for care with whoever might be a part of my life. I’ve got lost in my external focus, I would either run or stay. If I felt wrong within some nebulous fit, my flexible personality would rationalizes what was happening. I would lose the self, I never had; life seemed to be forcing my hand to decide who I am: I have to change or make peace in any given moment. I flounder within my interactions.
“Life isn’t all about stories” I had a captive audience within my captivating actions. I got to experience a muse in my Doctor, with his unleashing nature, he sat mostly in silence. His silences offered such power over my fear, when I slipped into my illusions with facing questions I never asked… or had answers for. I gave myself an assignment to not run from him because he certainly isn’t dispensing anything in the way of negative information. This man has not confined me even with his title and stature within a public image.
Where does my real time exist? I don’t have the truth, only a Hollywood script I keep writing over and over. Acceptance and warmth has brought me to as much trust at any given moment. When does answers bounce off the wall within my statements. Choosing words well has to be chosen, without a weight of commitment. For me it is a continual mystery which draws me back into the ambiguity of relationships. My poetry is self-exploration. Still I want to know who people are... My real assignment is how I shall know myself contained in an ever changing dynamic. It seems it is my minds secrets that are being healed.
Whirling again
Spinning into a labyrinth
His web tangled in mine
A quick swirl
Without feelings
We move.
We repeat habits.
Never really talking
Only evolving in comfort
