Avalon143

     It is 6:00pm and a couple sits at dinner. Candles flicker, casting shadows that dance across their half eaten food. The sparkle of the woman's diamond earrings catch the attention of the waiter as he walks to deliver yet another overpriced gourmet plate to an awaiting customer. The man's hands fumble with the silverware as he attempts to cut his twenty-five dollar steak, clanking his knife to his plate, causing a few eyes to be averted from their obviously in depth conversations. The violently disturbed steak sauce drips, unnoticed, onto the suit pants of the man as he attempts to recover from this restaurant fau

Red Coals and Humanity     The red coals of the fire smolder in the dawn of the hills of West Virginia. A single drop of salty water, not from the dew beginning to form, but from the depths of a friend's soul, falls to the metal grate and sizzles into evaporation. To face the self is one of the most difficult challenges a person can endure. Running from our minds, distracting ourselves from our selves, and searching for the answer to our question of existence in objects, places, beliefs, and people fills our lives and destroys the love of which we are capable. To sit with and run from your self at the same time must be a tiring game to play

Driving Through Demons I drive. On a road where fog covers all but 50 feet ahead of me, it is hard to see. My face is cold and toes are numbing. The steering wheel grips my hands with its crisp frigidity as I turn and sway with the movement of the jeep. My eyes look through cool crying glass, moisture seems to seep from the clear surface. The wipers remove my windshield's sorrows, moving on. There is a soft music in the back of my mind. The distance looks back at me and sees a child who is lost, a child driving the only path he can see. Two eyes appear around the next corner, with a blurred disposition, they stare into the depths of my being

To have no feeling is to be closed. To be invulnerable is to have no bonds. To search and never find the identity Of a person you thought you knew Is a sad day to find yourself within. To lean on no one is to be alone. To search for no one is to be isolated. To be independent from the rest of the world Removes yourself from the beauty That is the human interaction. To rely only on self is to be unaware of others. To sit and only hear is to walk a one way road. To never give of yourself to someone for which you care Removes the possibility for them to care for you. To open and share is to be connected. To give and take is to

It finds me deep in sleep, As I walk in a world where I cannot weep. I seek to find the answers lost, But I can’t see the final cost. The thought lurks in caverns of my minds, Searching for the exit of expression. It finds its way only partially Leading to depression. The light of my day finds itself dimming, In a way I cannot explain. I only wish I had the time to sit. My thoughts, detain. I search for what I saw, But see what is not, Missing what is, And seeming distraught. I realize then, I should not search For what was seen But search for what there is to find. Search for what I do not know And find the way to th

A homeless man stands, crying, across a gap. He stands in a world I have never known. I cannot reach down to him with my arms to hoist him to my realm. He cannot jump, he has not the strength. He can only gaze through damp eyes, as those on his side sit and peer into the world passing them by, at those who have yet to fall into his world. This gap is forbidden, uncrossable, dangerous, foolish, difficult, and treacherous. There is no bridge for either to cross; no way down to his level. He cannot cross the obstacles that lie in his path to my world. He has no strength, so it is I who must go. But to do this would be illogical, unreasonable, un

Walking through grass saturated with rain water I look down to the imprint I was leaving on this Earth. Clear water seeped up from the pressure of my foot, glazing my toes with its crisp cool liquidity. I look, not at the judging world that surrounds me, but at my feet and what they have come to do. We each leave our mark, our existence, on this Earth but how many of us claim it? How many of us define our existence here? Not particularly Why, that comes later, but merely What? What are we? An oak tree stands, waving in the wind, its leaves greet those who pass underneath. It is said that humans are the most developed beings on this earth, y