tarkis's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- how to choose the path the storms last night... you know the kind... the ones that make you want to curl up in someone's arms and be held through the night. so there was no one to curl up with... no one to whisper the it will be alright words so quietly in my ear and with each lightning strike or round of hail would hold me tighter. no.. there is no one for that. but... I did get a few calls... just to let me know that I was being thought of... that I was important to someone at that moment.. or then I thought.. it may have been nothing more than they being alone and also needing to hear someone's words in their ear while the lightning flashed and the hail rained down. but when I finally fell asleep... it was to dreams of things left undone and reddened bloodshot eyes.. the ones you get when too many tears have fallen or the sadness of life has finally weighed you down. Not my tears... but a character in my life's play. I held him so close.. to make his sadness go away.. to feel important to him once again. The old man smiled and took our hands... he started to pull back.. he felt uncomfortable taking the old man's hand.. i understood that so well. The old man smiled that very gentle smile he has... the one that smiles into your soul.. and he asked him what was he afraid of.. he looked at us... he said .. you are not for me... you are for her.. my path is a different path.. you are not for me... and he looked so sad. I dropped the old man's hand and ran to him... it seemed as if it was a long run.. though he was right there.. I told him then I won't go either... I won't leave you so sad. My path will always be there... I said, but this feels right. and the old man smiled and his smile grew and grew until we were tumbling through the smile ... through the colors... it seemed as if we were tumbling through time itself. the three of us... we were still in the old man's smile. somehow.. and then we were there.. in the meadow of long ago.. and the sun was shining and the birds... so many birds and animals and trees... healthy strong warm trees. and he was different... his eyes were not red or sad... and he was so different... not the one I see when I look at his picture... he was the same yet different.. more like who I see ... who my soul plays with quite often. and I could hear the old man's laughter as he started to sputter about he had his path that he was to take.... and this wasn't it. and I smiled .. so confused at where I was and what was happening... but then I heard the old man whisper in my ear... I'm proud of you. and the dream faded off... or I don't remember much else. and putting the dog out this mroning.. listening to the birds.. took me to that place ... that warp of time itself and I heard the voices of life... for a moment.. and I knew... without a doubt.. I was not so alone.. and that someone was proud of me. the question is ... which me? 6:11 a.m. - 2003-05-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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