Windows of Opportunity

Windows of opportunity, squared off panes of tiny inuedo, shared spaces.

Can I see through them. Their tiny lines of engrained and compressed knowledge. How were you made to see into their elabourate plans?

One pane of glass can hold a million dust mites all cornered together to make a design yet unknown to it’s maker. Morsels of dirt hang on, from long lost plans to spend the day cleaning them into brilliance, holding a treasure of knowledge of when it all happened.

One piece of wood shimmed into a larger piece combined with nails can give a complete look at the finished product.

Is this the window of opportunity we applied for? Is there a vision or a visionary to the process of making the glass see through? What are you looking for when you look into the glass only seeing the otherside of the same thing?

Rain dispells the clarity of the sun as it tries to shine down in a blurry activity of squinting your eyes. The drops that obscure the outside world drizzle lightly cleansing the dirt form the outside.

Dew drops in the morning mist adds to the stream as you reminisce. Your coffee cup anticipates a days beginning, as it sits on the ledge awaiting your mouth.

I wrote on the window yestersay did you see my message? Did you answer in your own words on the same pane of glass? Maybe you chose another one, your own design for the question.

The wind can cause turmoil on a clean window. It shadows the clarity you had so intimately cared about when you washed it yesterday. How can you find out the truth?

One large mass of glass, multi colours nestled into a work of art, a small window atttached to the door. Small veins of welded metal hold the vision firm for decades, even longer if careful. When does the creation change? Is it due to the light reflected from the sun or the lamp in the living room? Is it still your vision or someone elses thoughts that still transend your world.

A window of opportunity does come knocking sometimes. A voice through the glass calling you to come play. A face smooched into the clean window with surprise and laughter to generate a joy not held before. Sometimes even a baseball thrown shatters the glass into a thousand pieces of sand, no malice intended.

Can change invite freedom, replacing the scattered intention for an opportunity of change to come your way?

Beautiful Conversations

Can I take you on a journey of conversations.

Show you places where words bind into phrases of said things. Emotions that sing with the vocal cords.

Can I walk you down a path where verses rhyme to the momentum of your walk, into the longer sentences with meaning found.

Would you like to sit in silence for a moment before you reveal what the conversation means to you, listening in slow motion? Reading the words and involving yourself in the verbs as they form reactions, on your tongue.

How are you with that?

Can you be real within the chapters? The conversation evolving, compressing a revelation of sorts. Are you teacher or student to the purpose?

How do ou feel as the phrases roll through touching your heart in so many ways? Does it say something of your person?

Just a moment…

Can I help you contemplate?

I feel you looking for the words to say but your not yet seeing what’s beyond the words.

Can you hear the conversation in all it’s complexity?

Ah, you see.

Is it beautiful even though the words are not? Sometimes fear and anger have a certain ring to the actions they express. Are you emotionaly connected?

Is it compasssion you hear? A revealing of something deep within the other person’s being? Are you touched by the conversation?

Take a breath….

Find the beauty through the information. Take yourself out of the picture.

Can I take you to another level where conversation becomes mute. That the words are just visions of a simplicity of dances with the letters on your lips?

Say hello to the beauty in conversation. Words without a specific meaning, sentences and phrases that collapse you into another dimension of living in the moment.

Can you find peace, patience as you think about what’s being said? The beautiful conversing, the invisable words, through mimes. The mind creating a play with inacted, soft voices that are conversing on another level.

A journey into the music of words. Unbound notes, each an individual sensation, yet when put together they can make a symphony.

Can you hear the beautiful.

I’m Sorry I Missed You

I’m sorry I missed you. I’m sorry you had to go because I was late.

Can I blame my GPS for mistaking and taking me to the wrong address? Yes that’s it, the GPS is at fault. I put in the address you gave me, wrote it down just like you said. Oh wait did you give me the right address? Could you have mixed up some numbers?

I did try. I called too, but you didn’t answer. I even stopped by a phone booth and looked for a phonebook but there wasnt one there. I tried my phone but for some reason your address wasn’t in my phone nor your number either. Oh yeah, you changed it didn’t you. The last time we spoke you told me that and I guess I was so preoccupied with my own “stuff” that I didn’t write it down. My bad. I remember now you even telling me to get a pen because I always forget, your so smart. But now how can I find you before you leave?

You promised me you would wait so we could talk. Now what am I suppose to do. Call your mom? Do you think she could help me out? She does like me, doesn’t she? Well I thought she did. I tried to call her but she wasn’t home. Her answering machine came on but who knows when she will actually get the message. I wish I could have convinced her to get a cell phone.

I am here sitting by the side of the road, looking at your address, tying to figure out where I messed up? It’s so hot in the car, I’m sweating and it’s clammy. I think I am getting quite upset because I know you are most likely gone by now. Your words are ringing in my ear. I remember, “be on time”. “Don’t be late, this is your last chance.” Where did I go wrong? Me and my preoccupation with my own thoughts has gotten me exactly where I said I wouldn’t allow myself to go. Why didn’t I listen, to you?

I am sorry, I messed up. Couldn’t you have just waited? You knew I would end up forgetting something, so why didn’t you call me? It would have been so easy. Where are you. I better leave the side of the road and do something, go somewhere. Maybe if I just go home I will see you parked in the drive, that would be so like you to give in again and make it alright. Your so good at letting me get away with my stuff even though I said I was trying. I am you know, really, trying that is. This is just a glitch.

One more chance and I will get it right. Let’s go back in time, back to the beginning, where we can be honset and truthful. Well me anyways. You always were honest, me not always.

Ok, here I go, I will find my way back to the beginning and see If I can figure out where I made the mistake. maybe get the GPS to reroute me to the proper location. Oh, maybe run into one of your friends and they will tell me where you are. Alright here I go. Hope I see you soon.

As I turned the corner I thought I saw you standing there. Where you waiting for me? I couldn’t turn around fast enough there was a procession of cars going to the cemetary and I had to wait my turn, so I followed them. I thought I saw you get into the lead car and smile. you did didn’t you. I knew I would find you.

My GPS told me to turn and I did. It did show me where to go. I just should have listened sooner. I miss you. I closed the door and you stood beside me, held my hand. I’m not as stong as you. I leaned in and quietly whispered in your ear as I laid down the rose I brought to give you today. It’s a beautiful rose, as red as the lipstick you liked to wear.

As I walked back to my car I looked up at the sun and felt the warmth of your heart in mine. The only words I could say are” I promise I will do better, and I will.”