Sea breezes bring slight chills to our thoughts.
Thirty-three years of whys percolate to the shallow waters of our minds.
I was afraid to look to our past.
Hold my hand when I tell you I love you.
There are no mistakes in the journey of life.
Sculptures have imperfect paths that lead to perfect destinies.
It is the intention that never changes.
Fate can be altered.
An artist's vision turns shapeless clay into life forms.
His hands shape the misshaped.
Each push or pull creates voids and fullness.
Together, the voids and fullnesses manifest small figures of mass.
As masses join, larger volumes emerge with identity.
The Creator becomes a victim of his art.
I am sorry about the day of challenge.
The sword of Truth bears a cutting-edge unknown to those who wield it.
Thirty years ago, I cut you deep.
I am sorry you were not the first.
I am sorry that I was not the first.
The wounds that lay beneath your love healed only on the surface.
Each day the question of why festers in the illusionary pain of betrayal.
The lonely journey from place to place gave mass to the vessel of innocence.
Violating flesh through the disguise of love merely entertains a desperate soul.
The act of temporary connection distracts from the true great works of the heart.
Do not judge the innocent, for there was no crime.
There was never intent to misdirect your love.
I suffered deeply on my journey through the forest of ignorance.
Instinct, not understanding guided me in my quest.
We cannot return to redesign the past.
The once moist materials have dried completely.
The glue has become brittle and weak.
Scars are beginning to fade from past wounds.
Sea breezes bring a slight chill to our thoughts.
Thirty-three years of whys percolate to the shallow waters of our minds.
I was afraid to look at our past.
The clay of fate is soft and moist again.
It is ready to be reborn.
It has new and different impurities to season the molding process.
The sword of Truth bears a cutting-edge,
But only to those who can be cut by honesty.
Hold my hand when I tell you I love you.
Do not judge me, for I was innocent.
We will find those sacred places that nourish and rejuvenate.
We will help our children who do not know their way.
We will reaffirm the harmony that we knew.
Let us dance in the light of enchantment.
Let us sing the melodies of love.
Let us be that Being that we feared so long ago.
Kevin S. Merigian © January 2007