Change and Loss

Sometimes, it's the little changes that end up costing us the most. And sometimes, every change feels like a loss. Change brings a loss of certainty, just as it gives feelings of uneasiness and even genuine fear.

I lost a coworker yesterday. Not really lost, but lost from one part of my life. I will get used to the new face sitting in the same office as me from eight to five every day. But things will never be the same. The people around us give us meaning. Would I live the life I live now, if I were the only human in existence? Of course not! No one would. So how can we not take seriously the constant change of people who come into our lives, even if into just one segment of our lives, only to be gone the next? The change I experienced this week was not the true loss of a friend. It was the loss of a friend from one segment of my life. It is strange how even that can feel so painful, so real.

Unfortunately, some changes are more serious than this. Some are permanent, never to be undone. So often I have failed to hold onto those I love. So rarely do I consider that every moment spent with someone is an individually numbered, finite moment. Why waste time pondering the faults of those we love, when we have limited moments to experience the wonders of their company? None of us have enough time to wait for the right moment to show someone how much they mean to us. The moment may never come. Even if it does, all of those moments in between are too valuable to discard.

Change is a peculiar thing. It makes us realize that every second we count as just more of the same, is actually the loss of a unique moment which will never happen again.

A to Z Story

This is a story where each sentence starts with the next letter of the alphabet. It is a restrictive, yet interesting, way to write a short story.

Girl of the Dream

A nervous expression covered his face. Betraying his normally cool, calm demeanor, Zak stumbled forward a few steps. Could this girl really be the one? Dreams of a girl, strange dreams, haunted him nightly. Every night for the past two years it had been the same. Falling from the sky in his dream was a girl wearing a blank expression on her face. Garbed in flowing white cloth with green borders, she would make her decent nightly. “How could this girl be the one from my dreams”, Zak pondered. “I’ve never actually seen her, so there is no way I could know…”

Just then, as Zak stood dumbstruck, the girl moved closer. Kissing Zak on the cheek, the girl locked onto his eyes and told him: “It makes me so happy to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” Zak responded without even realizing what he had said.
“My name is Xavier, and I am so glad to have the chance to meet you, the one who will take my life.”

Never one to handle unexpected situations with grace, Zak stood still with his hands at his side. Only one phrase left his lips: “One to take your life?” Passing as soon as she came, the girl vanished into the chilled night air. Questioning his state of consciousness, Zak squeezed his arm hard enough to make blood rush to the skin’s surface.

Rifle fire awakened Zak, filling him with profound disappointment as he recalled his surroundings. Somehow this dream seemed so real, but now he was sitting in his bunker holding his rifle, as bullets screamed overhead. The Third World War had called Zak, and most other men his age, into a place where dreams were almost a necessary escape to maintain sanity. Until now, he had always been able to tell his dreams from reality, making this last dream one that burned into his mind constantly, even as he frantically returned fire to the enemy. Veiling his vision completely, the enemy filled the air with a sulfuric smoke, ready to begin their final attack.
With a last attempt to save himself and his comrades, Private Zak Thompson sprayed his remaining bullets into the black night.

Xavier, the girl who had been at the center of Zak Thompson's only dream for these last two years, lie dead, protecting a child under her chest.
“You knew.”
Zak wept as the enemy surrounded his squad.

Holy Ghost

.


.












You can move the mountains,
Is what I'm told,
Clothe the naked and shamed,
And give the widow someone to hold.

They say you walked on the sea,
As you calmed their raging hearts,
You would not calm the raging spirit,
As you set captives free.

On this mountain, looking out,
I admire the glory that is you,
Oh why is my heart ravaged by doubt,
Before this day is through?

We are people you have formed,
With fear and wonder, you say,
But what of times we fall,
Or curse the path you've laid?

When I choose to abandon you,
And have turned from the Holy Ghost,
I hear a whisper as you pass through,
Now, is when I hold you most.

.

Fireflies

.





.








Fireflies dancing in the cool downpour,
Are lightning over the sea,
Lighthouses near the moor,
Look like bugs to you and me.

Fireflies seem tiny in a consuming sky,
While we search empty caves,
Extinguish our own flames,
Fireflies never ask, why?

.

I Will Hold You as Life Lets Go

.

Walking by moon's light,
arm in arm with you,
Seeing the sky for the first time tonight,
We'll be okay when all is through.

We no longer trust ourselves,
I can no longer believe the world,
But I trust you and you trust me,
I trust this sky and these trees,
And the stars lighting our way.

Feel this night air and believe in its gentle hold,
It has neither enemy nor friend,
It has only to feel cool on our skin
As it flows where its Father has told.

My love, I know the path is dim,
And you see no one in the watch tower,
It seems you've forever lost sight of Him,
And your chance for escape narrows by the hour.

As you long for the warmth of yesterday,
Cursing yourself for being so weak,
I stand by your side with nothing to say,
And swear I hear your heart miss a few beats.

If I could only have three words, one phrase,
To hold you when all meaning leaves your days,
What would it be?


I am here.


.

The Water Vein

.



Underground water flows
underneath tall pines,
within sight of the cherry blossoms,
speaking with rocks as it winds
around saplings who wish to grow.

It freely flows under warm human dwellings
where it hears the laughter of warm children,
with no care or trouble in the world.

The cool, clear water sloshes and splashes
against night black stone walls,
while ten feet above farmers build clay red walls
to hold their dirt.

The translucent stream rises above the ground
in a few places where the toads will play and
the children will drink,
those who know where the best water is found.

Suddenly the water sinks lower and deeper
into a narrow and lonely crevice
where it finally sees its reflection on the damp ceiling,
and starts asking

have I truly lived,

or did I watch

while others did?

Slowly the water trickled into the sea,
Almost as if it were never here.

.

Goodbye

Well, after reading this post for the first time in a couple months, I decided to remove it. Either I was living in a fantasy land when I wrote this, or I truly was about to break free from something terrible. I hope it's the former, because I am mostly content now and see it as a very silly post. At the very least, it was immature.

I am leaving this space on the blog, along with the comments, to remind me of whatever it was I was feeling that day. Besides, it's my blog. I can do what I want!