Mimiamos’s Weblog

Taking comfort in the parchment of my life,

I push limits toward better things.

What power beyond our lives

decides if our smiles outnumber our tears?

It’s not for you or me to know.  Our guesses are only guesses,

but we write,

learning from mistakes,

taking knowledge through the next door

with us as we go.

Take life’s credit card from me, please.

Don’t let me see the total I’ve spent

in minutes 

sighing against my lover’s ear,

staring at the sea to dream

or philosophize…

to love who I’ve loved and to remember that love…

Then to write of it…

 “What a futile foolTo write of such things…to think…to dream…            Peck-peck-pecking out words, making chicken scratches on empty pages like so many others.” 

Fool I may be

That I’ve failed to learn the game, I suppose…

Did I not make a difference to anyone, you think?

Not skeptic, not stoic, not epicurean?

Does everything have to be bathed in obscurity

to be thought clever enough to earn your gold star?

My eyes must be blind

and my art a cage that must surely be a small one:

I learned its maze one inch at a time

by the feel of its edges that were once clean, and smooth,

and as sharp as any razor’s edge.

Suddenly, unexpectedly,

The edges mocked me with flaked and uneven boundaries,

the new instructions you gave me were in a language I never learned.

I promise, I felt each ridge before I threw your list of foregone conclusions away.

I won’t bloody my fingers redefining myself or my writing

because in the end, writing is not an equation.

There is no cage.

There are no boundaries beyond the imagination and the page.

And we write…