by Jacob Beam
“Why are you so mysterious?” people bark as they slowly creep towards the exit of my life.
“Why are you so lost?” I retort painfully in the corners of my mind while I smile and follow closely behind showing them the way.
It seems as if the people only understand what they are strong enough to endure or rather, what they are willing to discover. One Guy sees a scar. I see a scene. One Guy sees a boy. I see a story. But lies within the depths of his mind? What does One Guy find from looking into his eyes? Or does One Guy even break gaze from his golden apple long enough to tell that someone else is in the story? Life is simple. But life is a puzzle. I just like to think the piece that I’ve become is a bit different than most.
A teacher once told me without telling me that the shit I wrote wasn’t good. But I don’t need him, or her, the gender is irrelevant. Who are we to critique another human concerning the produce of his mind, and whether or not it is ripe. Or worse, rotten. A cast away of the mental project. All brought to attention by blind minds that fill time in this space. We seek what is not yet found but what has been found so many times before. The equations of this life are known. Cyclical versions of ourselves lie within the past and will continue to rage in the future, As we destroy ourselves we destroy Self. Do people forget about that old guy chasing that whale? Well the truth is that old guy finally found that donkey of a whale. Learn a lesson.
I once fell down a rabbit hole. Tripped over a root of the earth and fell right on in. But it wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. I saw colors form in the sky and teach lesson old and new. A bird flew overhead in the middle of the blue shapes shaping the sky. Trees danced in the afternoon sun as they turned over and over again. The earth taught me a lesson. But all I could think about was that damned bird. So I wrote a poem about it all.
The trip is done its finished now
The bearing bore and nature wowed
Feelings left and feelings knows
Preachers teach of seeds now sown
Gowns of queens and kings they sit
On thrones of thorns and needles wit
It’s all a measure of which we own
The trees they speak of seeds now sown
My peach friend Pal once told me to live in the now. The moments that fly away so dearly lost, never to return. He suggested that I livein the moments that surround me. So I fly away and learned a lesson. It hit me square in the face, no raw meat to settle the burn. It was some sort of higher knowledge. One I could not fathom.
“Put your shoes back on.”
“I didn’t know they were off.”
“I want to feel the earth. I still have socks on.”
“We have to head back.”
“Where are we going?”
I see a wondering soul searching for answers. Someone else might see a loon. And One Guy might see a boy with his shoes off dancing under the sun.
So I continued the dance under the sun.
I received my education from The University of Texas-Tyler. I dig art, green tea and traveling. I live in Austin, Texas. I'm really enjoying the freedom from the terrifyingly backward thinking that only East Texas can bring.