Tuesday, May 11, 2010

All this and One More

This is an open letter. It was to be something else, an observation, a goodbye to Lena, and other such things, but a recent post by my less than perfect niece has prompted me to write something all together different. This is not just to her, it also continues to be to others as well, to those that may by name know me, but not by what that I have been, seen and known, time after time, after time.

So more direct, my dear child, you have no right to even begin to understand who I am, as you have no idea who I was. When you were but a thought, or not a thought as the case may have been, I was in the game, and not just a casual bystander, watching and dabbling in the games, but master of the ceremonies, directing the other players, with subtlety that I fear you do not, nor from this vantage point can not understand.

But this then is but a small portion of what you should expect. From the pain and suffering, earned in time, as the toll is paid. Ah, but you want not what is truth, you want not that which is experience, but to think you are in control, my dear peasant. A true princess of the realm from which you hail, you are yet to see the truth, and by the time you do, it may be to late.

Ah, to taste that sweet nectar for a bit, to prove that you are that which you are not. To eat from the pannier of fruit that only waits for those that have earned their wings. Are you ready to fly, to adjust your own perception, to understand the reality that lays before you.

Ah, but I have nothing but jolly retort, for I am not but a jester, no fool, but a jest in the trials and trivia that you know not, as yet.

That is all for now, for to say any more is worthless, and beyond that which will matter not.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Ginger Colored Memory

The blood is slowly wearing off the seats. The smell of her breath is dissipating, or I am just used to it. There is very little to remind me of what she was, a collar, a leash, a sweater, a dish, ashes to ashes, dusty and worn memories. There are still thoughts, could I saved her, for a little while longer maybe. To provide me with comfort, but what of her, she never noticed, the pain, when I came through the door, she was the same Ginger she'd always been.
Nothing touches me quite so deep, nothing hurts quite so profound, as the empty place and the wonder, could I have been, ah but that is just reasoning, nothing matters now. She is gone, and no other will ever replace her. Ginger was one of a kind, for her breed, for her behavior, for her I was everything, and she was always there. I have yet to shed a tear, but they are near when I think of Gingerkins, the G-dog, Ginger, you will always be very special to me. I truly miss the little Ginger dog, didn't think I would, but I do, almost as much as Arleta misses you too. Forever will you be the Gingerkins, and forever shall I remember you Ginger.
This is not enough, quite inadequate, but it is all I've got through these cloudy eyes, and misty mind.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Translate