Hello & Thanks

 

Here we are, another Thanksgiving. As it would happen it's my number 56th Thanksgiving. No matter what some may think I do know I have lots to be thankful for. And like some would think, I've been out in the cold so long that the handle of thankfulness is numb in my hand. I know it's there, I know it's important, but I cannot truly feel it anymore.

So for those of you who read in silence, know that this is not the depth of my ocean. But still my ocean, and these are just fragments, unsolved in it.

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Big Bang

On "The big  bang theory", Amy Farrah Fowler asked Sheldon how was he doing, because she wanted him to be happy.

I know what it feels like to ask and then sit down and help that person man or woman, friend or sometimes foe, fight the demons that bring them pain. Because I want them to be happy.

But what does it feel like to be asked?

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Mountains

Death is as light as a feather. Duty weighs as much as a mountain.

I feel trapped by my duty. I feel like Horatius at the bridge. I cannot win, I cannot move, and I cannot abandon.

I will not win and I must start the battle knowing that it's lost. I must lose the battle knowing that it was never in question.

My enemies have no ears for my cries. My allies have no concerns for my valor. But there will be songs of my honor, I just won't be around to hear them. My whole existence is no more than a seed to grow someone else's tree of entertainment.

Death is light but duty weighs as much as a mountain. I shoulder a part of the world that is populated by fool's, pretenders, and snakes. More than that was never promised to me. And through my duty more can never be asked.

Long ago I have averted my eyes from scenes of happiness. Till the mere sight or experiencing of it is world changing. As though created for the very first time in me. The weight I hold does not allow for the softness of reward. That is the duty.

Purpose is the reason for the duty. But purpose sometimes erodes. But duty is everlasting. To shrug it off for the mere reason of the evaporation of purpose is to curse one's honor to a pit from which it will never rise out of.

Some understand and they stand Horatius on their own bridge, in their own time, in their own way.

Some do not. They stand nowhere. Their lives are as light as a feather and they live with no mountains.

Truly I envy them. But by the Maker my mountain is too heavy to join them.

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Defiance!

I was deep down in the ship. From the way the water was coming down I knew the breach was above me. The water was soo cold. I have soo far to climb. I'm not going to make it.

~Engine oiler 1st class aboard the Titanic~

Have you ever been met with the same? To die here or die trying? To find peace and wait on the Reaper? Or show the devil defiance to the very end?!

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Mistakes

There were mistakes made. But the shield was holding. The re-entry was going to be a near thing. But NASA calculated that we had the margin. Easy for them to say as I watched the debris flake off pass my viewport. With temperatures so high that they are usually compared to that of the surface of the sun. I watched as less fortunate bits of my ship passed by me to never make it home again. With me strapped in and safe behind the cocoon of the heat shield. I said a prayer of thanks.

It was then that I noticed an object keeping pace with my re entry but outside of the shield. In horror I watched as it was familiar to me. It burned, and turned white hot. Bits of it trailing off in a fiery tail like a comet. It was losing its battle to stay intact. I dared not beat against my view port and sacrifice myself. But I cried, and I yelled, and I screamed. But what could it do? It was outside of the shield. It turned to me. As familiar to me as I was to it. It had a pained sorrowful look. I felt sick. But I felt empty inside. But I had to witnessed. It was a part of me. And it was now outside of the shield. Destined to burn and drift on the winds for eternity.

NASA said there was nothing they could do. Mistakes were made. But they weren't my mistakes. As I watched it slowly, slowly burn. Both fully aware that it wasn't our mistakes. Unless it's counted in trusting NASA in the first place.

It burned that day. Now every season I sit in remembrance. Remembering how it was ripped from me. How it fell outside of the shield. How it watched me as I watched it burn and spread to the four corners of the Earth. I'll be ok, I'll be fine, they say... NASA is still making mistakes. I made it, mostly. I had a shield. But not my mistakes.

In this metaphorical reality my heart died that day outside of the shield. I watched it burn. I felt the pain. And now I get to remember. NASA, mistakes were made. But they weren't my mistakes.

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Once a King

Where once a King was I. With graceful Queen by my side. We love in land and home. To take to heart with me as I roamed. Now sit in darkness I do. For never a sky to show blue. For still do I roam. No place upon this earth a home. For dragons one displace and sky. Forever will I see them fly. No rest for me on throne seat. No grass below my Royal feet. The people rejoice and come together. As they have done before, and they will do forever. But what of me? Where I, once King. But now am lost. Would any for me, pay such a cost?

Where once a King was I. Now on throne and watch as time passed by.

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The Fleet

If I was the brain of fleet then she was at heart. Armies do not win by the sheer size of their armaments. Nor do empires grow by the sheer strength of their weapons. As is true since the dawn of time so is the case now. A weapon no matter how advanced is only as powerful as the people who wield them.

In the case of the fleet that was my job. The when and how was strictly my purview. But in her was the heart. Like any instrument there comes a time to put it down. To know when enough, is enough. In the case of the fleet that was her job. As long as brain and heart worked together none could stand against the Empire!

Of course that all depended on brain and heart remaining together. There in always lies the problem. Fleet had no soul. Mostly by design. For the soul of the fleet was in the people that it served. Always designed to keep the fleet indebted to the soul that it served. The system had worked for more than a millennium. No one had ever thought to change it. Her, the heart. Me, the brain. The people, the soul to be served. Eloquent, poetic, functional and self-correcting. Or so we thought. The brain always in concentration of the next obstacle to the fleet but the heart longed for something else.

And so the fall was forged. When the enemy came, they did not come to challenge the force of the fleet. No, they came at the heart. They attacked with the lie of something else. I planned, I strategized, I forged tactic for tactic. But the heart of the fleet wasn’t in it. There are now places of dead and emptiness where the detritus of a once great fleet drift in silence and darkness.

The fleet is gone. I watched as the enemy took the soul. And disrespectful silence. Without noble triumph. The people to be served the soul of the reason for the fleet were taken. Without recourse, without voice I watched. The heart of the fleet hand-in-hand with the enemy walk promenade through the people. Defeated, they bowed. The enemy had their heart. The great lie of something else was told.

She was the heart of the fleet. And I?, I was the brain of the fleet that lost its soul.

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Missing

You know, I kind of miss the tears. You know, the uncontrollable sobs. The warm wetness on the cheeks. The way it would empty you and then you would look up again. You’d see the sun again as though for the first time. You would step out into the world and everything would shine of opportunity. You know what I mean. The feeling that what had passed was nothing more than one more sentence in a whole paragraph of possibilities. Yeah, I kind of miss the tears.

I kind of miss the pain. That feeling that would make you look around you but still never know where was coming from. That feeling, that thought that you had never felt anything as hard. I mean, you knew you would die. You knew you couldn’t survive it, so this had to be the end. And then suddenly at some point it would just be gone. You will remember it only in the distance. Only enough to tell you that it really happened. Yeah I kinda miss the pain.

I kinda miss the emptiness. You’ve been there. When you look within yourself. When you search all around your soul and nothing truly seems to be there. That point where you’re sure that if you screamed it would echo forever. The feeling that you would be lost forever inside of your own universe. Then that moment. That epiphany, when you realize that the more space you have is the opportunity to build the universe bigger than the one before that you would lost. Is it any wonder I kinda miss the emptiness.

I think I would love to miss, missing.

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I will not be defeated!

Last winter was cold. But I knew it couldn’t defeat me. I had plenty of heat plenty of blankets. It meant nothing to me. I could not be defeated.

Then spring came. It was always windy or unexpectedly hot. Which usually went to the unexpectedly cold. And people seem to walk around with this appearance of joyful anticipation. It meant nothing to me. I could not be defeated.

When summer came around it was hot! It was bright. The nights never lasted long enough and there were never enough breezes to make you appreciate the clouds in the sky. But my air conditioner worked very well. And I never had to be out in the hottest of the sun. I only sweated when I wanted to. It meant nothing to me. I could not be defeated.

When fall came I thumbed my nose! It was no better than spring. The leaves fell from the trees rather than challenge me. The people would be bent this way and that way with the changing of the seasons are changing yet again. Is this all you’ve got? Is this the best you have to offer? King Kong ain’t got nothing on me! It meant nothing to me. I could not be defeated.

Winter is back. It remembered me. It didn’t like what I said. It’s winds took vengeance. And although I haven’t seen it, it’s snows are waiting just around the corner. The people have started their joy to the world and brotherhood speeches on every front. The lies never end. The events of the day weave the tentacles to pull me down. But for the record, even if I never get to say it again, it means nothing to me. 

I will not be defeated!

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Another year, another sentence paid. This purgatory to shall pass. I have a lot to be thankful for. It doesn’t always come out in the words. Face it, it rarely comes out in the words. But that is life. Not all that sparkles shines and not all that shines is bright. I labored to produce this. It is one of my offspring. Fragments and all. If I don’t say it, happy holidays everyone. If I don’t make it known, May every year you make it to be better than the one you left behind. Just be kind to the ones who get left behind.