etreides

etreides

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vet

Fitting. Even after the holiday. Even after the wine, and the meat, And the crispy-flaked, All American Apple pie; The uniform. Like a well-worn leather glove, Perfectly, impossibly pressed.

Like a rocketship on its way to Mars, I move at escape velocity, Ricocheting off of stars At supersonic speeds - My contact with them is brief, Momentary, before I am flung By my own momentum Like a child spinning around a flagpole, Back into the dark, airy blanket of space, And onward to the next destination. With such lack of presence, I am stoic and alone; Loneliness, however, never sets a foot Across the threshold of my subconscious, For it is alive, awakened to the presence Of that from whence it came; In these heavens, My synapses surge as the memories That had dulled from thunderous existence Into static blips, unnoticeable, Return once again to their former state. I lay amidst the stardust, My eyelids growing heavy as they prepare to seal Me into sleep, before the far away lights Slide out of view, and I disappear.

You were born in Spring They said Which is why you always see The beginnings of the world, The dawns of the days, The buds and blossoms Even amidst a plain of thorny weeds, Or hiding in the bogs of darkened marshland. Yours is not the power to command Yours is not the power of stoic rigidity Yours is the wind, The power to dance amidst the storms That drive others to hide, Fearful of the thunder and lightning, The music of the heavens, That sing of life being poured anew into the Earth, Whose golden-haired daughter's naivete Birthed the autumn drought and winter chill, Before we had come to know, Or perhaps recollect, What beauty truly was. So dance in the pools of water, Your shirt, wrapped and clinging to your skin, Heavy with the Ocean's tears, Happy, sad, and bittersweet, And celebrate the recollection of unity As his wisdom seeps from your vision Landing lightly on your lips, Drawing others, enveloped in the creation and upholding Of the elements they claim opposed, When they are but linked, Into the clear vision of your direction, Reminding them of the beauty That fills the cracks Which hold their focus, If only they cease, and take a closer look.

Staunch as an automaton, with all The intelligence of someone truly living, You stood among the ranks, Serving as you best could, For reasons only you could justify at the time, Searching for your path among the thousands That would or had lay down their lives In the only way we've yet to accept As a valid means of standing in support Of an icon that we blindly hold in glory, Discounting opposition, Whilst shunning those who might Stand firm against the very vices We would address and shun if held Or displayed by others. Was it merely survival mechanism That let you wrap your thoughtful mind Within the boundaries of your heart, Such that neither functioned, Such that you might act upon the word Of one who lived to fight another day, Using hands other than their own, Directing bodies in the games of chess Played with living pawns Who might survive the journey, Cross the board, And themselves become A coveted king?

past

Here, in the fleeting moments of now, Having collected the debris of time gone by, I stand, gazing at the reflection of one Who is not who I was or am or will Be again in the pool of eternity. Within me, the cracks of darkness expand Outward from their core, Structuring the illusion of a presence With soldered fragments the past Has only had time to collect and hand off Before Time has come And demanded new beginning.

And there upon the lands they formed Four walls, and gates that proudly stood, Claiming: "This land is ours, secured Under the sacrament of He who lives On high. But by and by They blindly found themselves In want of food, for all they grew was coin, And to the ones who lived without made plea That they might share with them their own bounty. Not through penitent kindness did they share, Those dubbed godless, savage, uncivilized, But out of simple humanity, long forgotten In the tides that separated old from new, Natural bronze from crafted steel. Yet to no such avail, this kindness given, But treated apprehensively, as guile. Retribution was all but undeserved In the minds of those who quickly, having fed, Thought best the hand that fed them to be dead.

Along the sand The imprint of your footprints Still remains, Buried like the treasures of the dune, Visible only to those Who take the time To expand their sight From the day to day, And notice: One so beautiful as you, One so lightly treading the sand, Impacting the earth gently, Tracing steps that have been Walked before, Parallel perpendiculars, Themselves visible Only to those Who take the time To remember, One other, One another. As the ocean gently Casts its tendrils about Your echo, Implanting your footprints Into the memory of the earth, Lips mnemonically turn upright, Somewhere, tears flow Downward, Meeting smiles espoused From loving memories, Implanting remembrance Of all the joys Of the days spent, The hours walked, The eternities passed, When we strolled along in happy company, Implanting footprints on the beach.

Earnestly, I used to be Surrounded completely, Encompassed in a way I only Ever though possible within The boundaries of storybooks. You looked and watched, But never judged, ever Being a second sight for me, A pair of eyes when mine Would frolic about the world In their frivolous fashion, An extra hop in my step When my legs would Have normally tripped Over themselves, A voice in the back Of my head reminding me Not to lose patience; I had nowhere to truly be, Nowhere I needed to go; Reminding me that all I had to do, was nothing, For that was all Any of us Could ever hope To truly amount to, At the time Of the dust.

oak

Surrounding, a cluster of trees, Fat from the feast that lay beneath their roots, Perpetuating the cycle of life: Sustained, they grow, Sustained, they sustain, Conscious or unconscious, Who can tell? In their limited view, they possess the wisdom To ever continue to reach for the heavens, Which in turn allows those that lie Beneath them, waking or otherwise, To do the same.

frown

Indifference, perhaps, Or anger at an event; Sadness makes its appearance another way, Biting the lip, tracing A line from one end of the cheek to the other, Extending the blinds to allow the rain in, In hopes to wash away itself, Leaving only the bitter sting of memory Branded by loss, An sharp yet subtle, icy throb Against the presently revised Moments of living history, Shivering faintly on the surface of the grey Matter of the brain.

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writing since 2012 · 119 entries · 118 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Julian showed up.

17longest streak

118days written

0.4entries / week

on this day 12 years ago

Julian wrote about terrain
“Crossing the path through the underbrush, he came upon a clearing unlike none he had ever seen, and only, indeed, heard about in the folk tales murmured and muddled by the village over time.”

the words Julian reaches for

nowselfpastsimplyloveotherssimplethemselvesclaimpassedairstandhearttruthbettereyes