The Poetry Marathon

1. 1. Once upon a time there was a stone born blue as the darkest night.
   2.  He went by the name of Lapis Lazuli.
   3.  He was treasured for his purity and likeness to the deepest ocean and darkest sky.
   4. He never once saw his reflection.
   5. He dreamed of seeing other minerals such as he, yet always he was surrounded by homogeneity.
   6. He was shy, but curious.
   7. He stared into the sky nightly and fell in love with the beguiling moon thinking her silver hue was nothing like he had ever seen.
   8. He deemed her exotic, due to her difference, and he found her intoxicating; her silver hue became his love kryptonite.
   9. When the stars lit up the night sky he glowed with adoration in honor of the net of stars they weaved each evening anew, a stunning veil embroidered by their brilliance, highlighting his glorious moon in all her finery.
   10. He was a rough stone admired equally by the people of the village who pulled him from the earth, and mistakenly left him near the shore line.
   11. Day and night he loved the moon as she teased him winking, waxing, and waning all without shame.
   12. He was mesmerized by her presence.
   13. He was a peaceful stone, yet he had few friends,but for the elements.
   14. His heart beamed with pleasure as he was warmed by the sun daily, refreshed by the rain, soothed by the breeze that came off the coast, and tumbled happily by the raucous and playful wind.
   15. He always curious listening  to the birds and people that were near.
   16. One day a tumultuous storm arose and sent him tumbling uncontrollably into a lake of sorts, perhaps an ocean, no one really knows.
   17. He plummeted to the sea and saw himself for the first time in an instant …the reflection revealed with just a glimpse that he was not alone, he saw he was flecked with gold, fool’s gold, pyrite I think it’s called.
   18. In this self-revelation he had no idea that he was enveloped in a love from another mineral, descended from too many to name at the moment, and beyond her golden hue he saw himself beneath, betwixt, and in between.
   19. Her honey golden complexion was equal in exquisiteness, but different from his beloved silver adoration in the sky.
   20. He learned to love himself and appreciate she that had loved him all along, a silent partner who deserved a love far greater than the love he gave away unreciprocated by the silver moon high in the sky who he had tried to impress time and time again without knowing that her love this new love was not so new-she was closer than he had ever known, more deeply entwined in the golden veins that ran through the matrix of his being.

Before Darkness

… I once panicked

I hesitate.

No Stop! It’s time to regulate.

The darkness, the dusk unveils a scared time, a time to be ushered in with an open mind.

Darkness signals rest, a slowing down of sorts. Not just a time to be put to the test.

In my younger years, not too long ago yes,I know, it was a time of unrest.

The call of night loomed like a graying storm cloud that I could not see through.

“So much to do,

So little time,” was my favorite quote.

It was not an option to float,

Away. Instead I had to handle my dealings.

Darkness at its core, before I worked the usual 10 hour shift with commute as I still do,it was instead a time in which I had mixed feelings.

Long ago, or so it seems.

Before darkness was a time that I relished. I savored. I looked for; I enjoyed being out to witness the most sacred part of the day. An ombre sky, a treat for all to see.

This was where I wanted to be.

…The last drop of color spooned from the sky and distilled in waves of sweet potato pie, candy cotton pink, and shades of lavender hue

That faded gently into pools of blue.

Steely grey clouds became more of a gateway to peace imbued with flecks of silver shard, remnants of stars, peeking through, hanging proudly beside a mysterious moon.

The milky clouds some pink and gauzy,

Some hazy,

Dairy white curtains emerge from the heavens ever growing darker by and by.

Yes, this was my sky.

Alas,I hearken back

To a time that has long past when I drove underneath the “Phoenix Center” underpass, in the heart of Pontiac.

With this, my favorite quote I fondly missed and the truth is,

I can no longer resist,

It has resurfaced clearer that before, and it is here to stay, ” I like the Nightlife.” This phrase still lingers in my mind from years long ago. I remember the thirty seconds or less as my family and I were quickly whisked underneath the structure. I remember beaming from ear to ear with pride at my revelation…

Once again I can relate,

Before darkness and I can now officially date.

Oceans open the river leading to my heart.

You and I drawn to the sound of the sea.

I flocked to its majestic arms while you stayed by the shore line.

Intrepid to touch the healing unknown waters we drifted apart, yet you left a message scrawled in the sand. Beckoning me home I dragged my feet hoping to bathe in the sun’s warmth.

Can you really leave me behind?

The end was once concrete and clear, hard and pointed.

Summer’s end comes knowing that the moments will be savored.

The rising and setting of the sun each day makes way for the waxing & waning of the moon an ancient reminder of how nature marks the passage of time, our most precious resource.

The possibility of a new day once came in unadorned, without obligatory chores, and was willed more by desire than by need.

Or so it seemed, the promise of a fresh page, a new day to do, to live in a waking dream to pursue the actions that time put a limit on.

The end is close, yet it is not to be feared. It is only a state of mind because once you enter through the gate you realize that you walk past pillars of granite and marble once thought to be stoic, the epitome of perminance and then now you realize that the end is the only true path to the new…a renewal, a necessary progression.

The end only marks a transient moment in time.

One learning how to marinate memories realizing that the end is not meant to harbor your thoughts or hold you back in the slightest.

The end is a delicate stepping stone that one can lightly walk upon until they decide to move to the next vista without gingerly accepting hesitation.

A brief pause in the rhythm of life. A period that gives way to a new sentence, an original thought. A new paragraph or chapter that needed the end to make every new start.

A poem is a small bit of the soul wrapped up in hope.

A hope that its words will pierce the heart and open the mind to pure possibility.

A poem is naked and vulnerable; it is the gateway to self-discovery…