Just Like That

Just like that, it began. Just like that, it ends. Anything ignited that quickly, by it's very nature, must burn out just as quickly. Consumed until there is nothing left but ashes. Back to reality, my imagination stifled, my feet held in place by gravity, my mind wanting escape, my heart unable to break because it was never whole. I removed the armor for moment, let it be shined up a bit and now have to decide: do I want to put it back on or do I want to remain vulnerable and exposed? Vulnerable and exposed leaves me open to pain. The armor prevents love from penetrating.

Everyone possesses an armor. Yours may be drugs, alcohol, your kids, your mate, your work. That thing we use in order to protect us from being exposed, to not reveal too much, say too much. Mine: work...if I just keep busy you won't be able to catch up to me and I won't slow down enough to let you get too close. I want to though. Just like that. Just that simple. I want you to SEE me - your eyes are like light exposing my picture that is as yet undeveloped. My fear: you'll see a blurry picture and toss it into the pile of negatives. I need the chemicals...I need the light...I need the exposure. Without it I will not develop. That requires too much work, too much time, too much effort. So there you go moving on to the next project. Because someone, or some things, or some time has done the hard work before you and that project is already art. You're not committed enough, strong enough, sure enough of yourself to keep working the project. It's more complicated than you thought. It makes you have to do some work on your own exposure. It makes you have to tweak a bit of your own life's project. And you can't...because you think you don't need to.

I just keep picking the wrong exposure. I'm committed to the process, to the alchemy of my life.