Splitting, searing, throbbing pain...hurts to move, hurts to see, hurts to exist...but I keep going faster. Run, whip through the motions. The faster I go, the easier it is to ignore it, to forget...but the pain never goes away. The agony only ever gets worse.
And then I hear it: the music, music that I know, that I love, that I've heard before but not exactly that way...and though it hurts to hear, though it tears me apart, I cannot help but listen. And that pain, that rhythmic wave of sound that sent me reeling into anguished shock, eased the other pain. It lessened the agony, soothed the torn edges of my nerves...
And the pain I felt when it ended, when it was gone, superceeded any pains from before. Being without it, that thing that I loved though it shattered me, was worse than never having had it, than never experiencing the shatter at all. Deprivation may have nearly killed me...but I wouldn't trade it for ignorance. Because somehow the first pain is easier, that origional agony is nothingness, when compared to the loss I now feel. And that makes it easier to endure.

If only...

If only I could help you
If only you could see
If only I could return some
Of the light you bring to me

If only there were some way
If only it were true
If only I could remember
Just how to help you

If only I were stronger
If only I weren't weak
If only I could raise you
From the darkness you seem to seek

If only I could help you
If only you could see
If only I could be for you
What you have been for me

But no matter how I struggle
you always seem to lose
For of the paths before you
One only can you choose

And though there's one I wish
You could walk along
I know you must go opposite
To claim you would be wrong

If only I could help you
If only you could see
That I'd do anything to save you
From the terrible trap that is me

So take the path your heart walks
And take it with all speed
Walk it with both heart and feet
For that is what you need

For this is how I help you
This, though you can't see
This I do, to do right by you
I part myself from thee

Goodbye...

Every day we say good-bye,
Every day I must leave.
Every day I must miss you,
And every day I grieve.

Every day could be the last,
Every day one could die.
Every day I must wonder,
If this is the last good-bye.

Every day someone is lost,
Every day someone dies.
Every day I start with hello,
Knowing I must end with good-byes.

Carrickfergus

I wish I was in Carrickfergus
Only for nights in Ballygrand
I would swim over
The deepest ocean
The deepest ocean
For my love to find
But the sea is wide
And i cannot swim over
Neither have i
The wings to fly
If i could find me
A handsome boatman
To ferry me over
To my love and die

My childhood days
Bring back sad reflections
Of happy times
Spend so loong ago
My childhood friends
And my own relations
Have all passed on now
Like melting snow
I spend my days
In endless roaming
Soft is the grass
My bed is free
Ah, to be back now
In Carrickfergus
On that long road
Down to the sea

I'll spend my days
In endless roaming
Soft is the grass
My bed is free
But i am sick now
And my days are numbered
Come all you young men
And lay me down


--Orla Fallon, A New Journey

"It is the way we live that is testament to our spirits...and perhaps the way we die..."


--Dennis Mckiernan, "The Iron Tower"

The Blessing

In the morning when you rise
I bless the sun, I bless the skies
I bless your lips, I bless your eyes
My blessing goes with you

In the nighttime when you sleep
Oh, I bless you while the watch I keep
As you lie in slumber deep
My blessing goes with you

This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do
And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you, and you bless me too

When your weary heart is tired
If the world will leave you uninspired
When nothing more of love's desired
My blessing goes with you
When the storms of life are strong
When you're wounded, when you don't belong
When you no longer hear my song
My blessing goes with you

This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do
And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you, and you bless me too

I bless you, and you bless me too


--Lisa Kelly, A New Journey

Also If...

ohIf you are there to catch me, I will not fear a fall. If you are there to catch me, I will not fear to jump. If you are there to help me live, then I will not try to die. If you were to cry for the moment of your life at my death, then I would strive to live. If you will be there for me always, then I will be there for you...and neither of us will ever be alone. If you would jump after me, I would not dare to jump, for your sake. If the rest of you would hang for me, then how dare I do something to be hung--for I would never put you in danger. I will suffer no one, to suffer on account of me, executioner or no. Meaningless words: "I hope your death comes swift in your sleep". Meaningless, but I have no more actions to give, save my life for yours...

Reality

There's something about reality that tends to drive people to irrationality. It's cold, harsh, and utterly impersonal, and it's realization crashed over one all at once, with no time allotted for them to adjust to it.

It's like waking up in the morning, almost. For a moment, often an infentismal span of time immediatly forgotten, you know nothing, feel nothing, remember nothing. You are given this split second of total, blissful ignorance--then reality crashes in on you, full force. The world, your life, and all your troubles rush into your mind, all at once, in a chaotic jumble not unlike a city in the aftermath of some great earthquake.

This experience, this 'reality check' has been likened to many things over the years: "a slap in the face," "being hit by a ton of bricks," and "taking a bull by the horns," ranking foremost among them. These phrases are cliques all, and yet it's sad how true they are. That moment where our pure, innocent, unsuspecting psyche's are overwhelmed by reality has the same effect on us as throwing pitch on a clean white sheet would have on that sheet. It's blatant, severe, and traumatic--and that's just when you're the busy housewife watching someone destroy her linens!
Yet that blast of reality is rarely remembered even seconds later. It's a natural part of life, a logical consequence for the act of waking each morning. Could we remain in that state of unawareness for any length of time, we would never grow as people, or as a society. We would fall apart, stagnate, and fall into ruin, because ignorance may be bliss, but reality is what makes things worth living and dying for.
Everyone wants to belive in something: religion, truth, science, whatever...but no one can belive in anything if nothing is real. For if nothing is real, than we are not real...and if we are not real, what are we?

Darkness...Or Beauty?

Darkness is, more often than not, a thing of Fear--and Fear is a thing of restriction. With Fear comes the panicked mantra of 'I cannot, I cannot, I cannot" that freezes you and makes you doubt your ability to continue, which in turn makes you doubt your worth. Darkness is also a thing of misdirection, of being unable to find the path that is before your feet. And darkness is a thing of loneliness, where you cannot see the companions who stand at your side.
I know this simply because I've been there...or rather, because I'm there right now. Night has been growing on me steadily for sometime, getting darker and darker...and for a time I almost gave in to Fear. I t took the combined efforts of a few people very close to me in heart and in location, and the persistant affection of one dear friend close in heart, yet far away, to convince me to look up into the sky and see the star shining there. And as I watch, as the blackness falls ever deeper, more lovely points of light appear in that great expanse. Slowly my eyes are adjusting, and slowly my path becomes clearer, my friends easier to see...and my heart swells with joy as though it may burst through the walls of hurt and anger built around it.
For though it cannot happen all at once, I can feel those walls crumbling, can feel the tiniest smile of pure, ecstatic happiness on my face--because even as the black night grows darker, so also does it become more beautiful. And no matter how long the night, now deep the darkness, how inky black and empty be the sky or the ceiling overhead-building, tunnel, or forest, or anything that blocks the light-nothing can keep the light from returning with the dawn, can banish the sun forever to a place where it cannot be seen again once you find open air and skies above you again. Always will a new day dawn; let us take comfort in that even our greatest trials are so insignificant as to cause no changes in the cycle of the sun.
I stand in the dark night and smile...for never have I seen anything so exquisitly beautiful.
I am still here...
...And I am not alone.

Doors in Life's Hall...

If life is thought of as a hallway, then there are doors in it that, once opened, cannot be closed again by any means. Sometimes they are doors that lead into the soul, that go deeper than any window of the eye can penetrate...Some are doors that lead into the heart, through which is expressed more emotion than any word or action could ever match...Some are just doors, doors to places of memory or mind, doors that close, lock, and seal behind you so you can never reclaim what once you had there...Some doors lead nowhere...And some lead everywhere, to everything you are, everything you have been, and everything you could be...

A Moment of Peace...

I sit on the couch, one knee drawn up to my chest and my arms around it, staring out the window and listening to the ticking of the clock. Time's passage is slow, painful, like a dull heartbeat that your whole body feels, like the pulse of blood behind a bruise that makes you ache all over, like a repetitive action once easy, but now too monotonous to bear.
The silence is a rarity, a strange moment of peace I may never again reclaim or experience...and though i once longed for it's presance, I now find it only makes the ache of loneliness worse. My breath comes in heavy gasps of agony, my head droops, and I heave with soundless sobs and cry dry tears that never fall.
And yet somehow, I am more able to face the coming chaos, and less likely to let it control me. I feel better for the feeling worse, little sense as that makes...and in the balance, I would never trade this moment for any amount of loving companionship.

Walking

It is dark, all the world is dark, and I walk down the path before me with my eyes on the ground not far from my feet. I can't remember how long I've been walking thus, in the lonely darkness, but from behind me I begin to hear footfalls, familiar sounds of the walker with whom I have traveled so many dark paths. I know the rhythm of those steps, know their soft sounds more intimatly than I know my own...I turn about, just for an instant, to meet the other's eyes. No words are spoken, for between the two of us speech has become but a hinderance to communication, so close are we.
Yet as I turn my head back to place my eyes on the path I tread once more, an inconsistency of the world behind me gives me pause. There is something discordant about the haze of grey, something that stands out...as I watch, one streak of color appears seemingly beyond the earth, reaching into the sky itself. It's a faint thing, almost imperceptible, but there. I cannot determine what shade it is exactly; at first it seems blue, but so pale as almost white, then rose, then violet, then scarlet, then amber...I cannot make it out.
I realize that my feet, which had been moving ever onward of their own accord, had now stopped of the same. The walker had stopped as well, entranced by the explosion slowly creeping across the sky. And as we watched the horizon burn, so bright was it that our eyes burned also. The world, so dark seconds before, now lightened into just grey, then twilit, then simply dim, and onward through every level of illumination one could get until the world burned also.
We stood there, marveling, letting the burning light clear the darkness from us. We had forgotten the dawn, forgotten the touch of sun during the long night. And so I realized that though the brightest lights do cause the darkest shadows, so also do they banish them to the deep corners, under-places, and closed spaces in the world where few choose to go, leaving the rest open and clear for us to walk in.
The darkness must be bourne, if only because it is the other side of Light's coin...and the one thing that eases the burning of pure goodness from us, as we could not survive it in constancy.

His smile...

The smile I have come to love is fake; It's a mask for deep-set pain, for tears that will not wash away...Could I cry, I would cry for him; Could I weep, I would weep for him...I see in him all the good things I wish I could see in me, see the strength and successes I never achieved, see all the bright stars that shine in his night sky that his eyes are blind to...Could I cure his blindness I would, but alas, I cannot...and standing beside him I only feel as if I lack more worth than I did before...for I cannot do as a friend ought and share his tears, feel his sorrow, and take his pain...for I am so selfishly consumed by my own.