Often times what I write is not voluntary, it is taken from me. Like sweat flying from the brow of a boxer that has just been struck, Only it’s not always sweat. This violent process becomes more serious when red fills and mixes with the clear beads of water. Many if not all of us have seen blood leaving our bodies, how many of us have seen it forced from us. A blow or event removing a vital part of life from your body. Watching this thick mysterious fluid being forced out, As it flows or is flung from you to eternally stain whatever it is to land on. This liquids ability to permanently contaminate immediately on impact seems poetic. The red blotches mark our past inhibiting us from forgetting. We all have memories running to a sink or the nearest towel to avoid inconveniencing those around us or ourselves, we have to be careful where we bleed. Not only due to its difficulty to remove there is also the fact that others don’t want to see it. For fear of realising mortality, eyes are quickly averted. Only two kinds of people want to see you bleed, those with villainous or mocking intent and ones who truly care. Either of these are terrifying. There is no hiding the blood that is struck from us. Count on it showing, count on it staining.
If you have love in your heart how can you ever do any real harm? Truth is there is a form of love that is dangerous, it can sway your opinions make you do irrational things, things that very well may hurt others. None of that matters, the drive to achieve that feeling we all crave is so great that in the moment no cost is to great for the chance of bliss. As long as it pays off we can ignore our actions, forget or maybe never even realize what has transpired, what we have done. What if all this doesn’t pay off, when there is a reckoning. Amazed at what we were capable of during this period of intoxication we are left with destruction. This abomination in disguise as real love ruins lives and hearts, scarring some for eternity.
There was a time in my life (not so long ago) when I believed in making mistakes, “Take chances! Fall on your face it will build your character.” In my mind as long as I had love in my heart towards others and always learned something, mistakes were not something I had to worry about. Sure occasionally one was hard to recover from but hey I had learned a lesson, even if I lost something to learn this lesson I gained something from that loss. Mistakes are A part of life I hear you telling me. You’re Right, But here is where they become a problem, When you affect another person, when you affect another heart. Or maybe you give up Something so great that your life may never be the same. Maybe what you lost was one of the most special things on this earth. A light that illuminated parts of your life that you had never seen before, A light that blinded the darkest days with rays of light that only God himself could have sent. Or the more alarming possibility, maybe you have done both. Not only has that light gotten darker but you also effected another heart. That other heart being none other than the one you care for the most. Some mistake A broken heart as not receiving love from someone you love. No you can move on from that find other love. Hurting someone you care most about that is what breaks a heart, You watch their light fade from you as the realization of your actions sets in, Only then does your heart truly rupture.
Does A river doubt itself when cutting through rock? Does it ever question its ability? Does it have days where nothing in the world could convince it of the progress it would make in the future? When it looks back on what it has done this far is it amazed and encouraged, or overwhelmed and exhausted. Perhaps it wants to stop, maybe there’s a deep desire to stop fighting for each small slice of progress. So much power and time, two valuable commodities exhausted for what seems to be such little progress. Those closest to the river are bewildered by its progress and persistence. Have they considered how tired it is? Maybe the river doesn’t even want to cut the rock but just by existing, by taking each day at a time it accomplishes what seems impossible. Without any other direction to go it moves forward. Refusing to let doubts have any real power it collides with the stone with nowhere else to go.
Words alone cannot change the earth’s rotation. Words alone cannot stop a volcano’s eruption. Words alone cannot reach to the deepest parts of the ocean. Isn’t that what I try and do with them sometimes? Turn the earth the opposite direction? Halt one of the most powerful events of this world? Reach for something that cannot be touched?