Day 352: Corners

"I guess we all have our own corners" I was thinking out loud. As I said those I felt how true it was in the reality of things, in the open nature of the world we live in. This is not to say that we live isolated in these corners, neither to imply that we close ourselves but to imply we have our own sides to take sometimes. That we are all in visible corners we can all see, we have thoughts we believe, arguments we understand and music we play in these spaces. While it might be a bit naive to try to understand the world as though fragmented when we rather wouldn't, I would like to think these corners are our closest selves that we share with one another.  So I write to the same, out and aloud, thought.

Corners
So we sat on the floor with invisible chaklines
You had your side and somehow I had mine
We each had corners we, even though we didn't decide
While I looked for the spaces that lay unassigned

These little moments that our memories keep
When we smile at random and maybe sometimes weep
These that have touched and formed who we are
Closer than a heartbeat and yet seemingly afar

These shades and colors of the outside sky
While I stare at the myriad, I feel time passing by
Corners that cut close & that are closer to the heart
That are simply reasons, whether close or worlds apart

I will meet you where your mind retreats & we will paint again
Draw sketches of an empty boat, and these we will frame
Why some thoughts that echo deep remain in still waters for now
While we all sit in our corners and figure out the world somehow

Day 351: Fading Light

So though the sun was setting at its own pace, the little glimmer of the light came into my room meant I was following it through the spaces between the window shutters. It was chasing the fading light as the day got longer and wishing for more hours every single day. I have not written for quite a few days now, trying hard but being pushed and pulled with to do lists every single day. I tell myself this should not feel like work, it should still feel like writing, as simple as that. Fading light discusses the idea of our love for contrast and the capability of finding something in all its aspects. As I slowly begin to feel a little better again, I want to capture the fading light as though trying the insane.

Fading Light
I have left the planning and telling of tales
Embraced the wind as I have sometimes set sail
Been clear as the day sky and cloudy too
Rained as the hours pass and sky turned back blue

For I have sailed these winds that blow

Seen parts of me that I do not show

For some things lie uncaptured as it must
I may have lost faith at times but not your trust

In the in between of things little known
I will learn from these pieces that help me grow
While the rest remains unplanned in my mind
Waiting for instructions that it hopes to find

Be just like this wind tonight
Not troubled by the fading light
So that these little things in the day remain
Like loose pages of a book on the floor as they lay

But embrace too; the dark

With its marching half,

The promise of a new light

An excuse to blaze a new path

Catch new winds and write new lines

Day 350: Mr Salesman

Think about being a Salesman for a day, collecting and selling memories back to yourself without charge. Just making the case to reflect back to the little things that you have left behind, maybe nostalgia somehow, maybe pieces you wrote that you don't remember anyone, doodles on the sides of pages or even pictures that speak to you without frames. They are pieces that are kept on displays only in your mind, and yet they are reminded by yourself, the salesman who sells memories back to himself. Who are you waiting for keep going back to the same door, I am just collecting memories scattered on the floor.

Mr Salesman
Mr Salesman and the keeper of dreams
You seem to be selling the world within
Things that aren't on catalog pages for now
They are just on sale from you somehow

Dear philosopher of ages and doodler in my diaries
You are words and sketches that are set free
You are on walls of my mind , like museum pieces on display
Moments where I haven't grown & still get to play

Mr Salesman you are different, like this other side of me
You are my collection of vintage & black and white memories
So you sell them back without price tags in place
Just reminders some rainy days and across some nights

Are you still collecting things to keep
While I count the hours of the day that I dream or even sleep
May intermittent at best you come to my door
While I keep looking back at the things for sale & some on the floor

Mr Salesman you are in the old and the new
You are simple things I try to remember & piece together too