Searching the edge of life
beyond the red line

the world streaming past
drop to a lower gear
to increase the engine's throaty roar

razor sharp decibels
cutting away the dross

heart beating a stacatto rythym
blood pounding in ears
keeping time with the music

adrenaline sharpened focus
keeping painful awareness

minute shifts in the physics equation
while speed feeds the flames
of jagged painful memories

The basic concepts and several fragments are remnants left over from an unfinished poem that I started many ages ago, back when I was still writing poetry and prose to share my pain and my passion with the world and those around me.

I pick up the pieces and put them together with inspirations at both new and remembered.

I put away my writings and my inspirations when I was examining my realization that I was living inside the Police song, "Message in the Bottle" (Google for the lyrics if you need help understanding)

It made me stop and listen to the tumult. Who would be able to hear the message lost in the cacophony. I decided to stop adding to the background noise until I knew that I had a clear signal. I couldn't be a beacon in the darkness to guide the way when I was adrift myself.


Which is part of how I twist myself when I realize that I am impelled to write in order to help myself find my way. Is it why I feel drawn to re-examine aspects of my darkness in order to find the missing pieces?

I'm filled with the drive to share what I have learned and what I have always known. To regain myself and to become more than myself. The desire to live in fullness.

But the path back to myself is filled with traps and pitfalls amongst the twists and turns. (Sudden mental flash: A friend from highschool jumping on a grate in the path between buildings... As the clash of metal rings out, "Watch Out! There might be traps!")

Which are Illusion and which are Real. Is that question itself woven into the fabric?

Should I apply Alexander's solution to the knot?

hmmm... accidently misposted this originally...