It actually started long before Midnight.....

You never learned to love the way the world moves, only how the world wants to fall around you.

The lonely pirate that has cast himself away from the civilization that disallows his freedom continues to wander the edges of the Earth, dragging the anchors that keeps his ship in suspended motion.

When was the last time you saw the moon from the shore? When the blue stars rained down from the blackened ceiling, like glitter on New Year's Day, but you seemed to be oblivious of them landing on your shoulders, brushing your lips before they fell away into the waters of Lethe.  The waves gain momentum as they form around your naked limbs, but you can't feel the effervescent foams grasping for the spidery tendrils of your calves.  Your bury your feet in the encumbering sands of the problems you create for yourself, and curse the sea for eroding them to solitary grains that make for your illusive escape.

I watch you from a distance, from the safety of the lighthouse that only wants to guide your way back to the person you once were, hoping that my circling beam guides your broken, weary ship back to the arms that harbored your doubts and fears. I once swam with discarded dreams from the amnesic seas, where I once walked the plank at your behest when my post upon your ship was eliminated.

How quickly a vessel can fall into disrepair! My downsizing was supposed to make your crew stronger, and I was supposed to drown away like so many of those barnacles that attached themselves to the hull, feeding upon the scraps of other carcasses that could not feed upon you; instead, I learned to swim, in spite of my overwhelming fear of being submerged; conversely, I learned to find the power I needed beneath the surface, the darkness feeding the empty spaces where the seeds had not been nurtured.

No, my dear-- I have not been consumed by the sharks, I rode on their backs till I found land once again. I did not drown in my sorrows, they became my methods of irrigation when I returned to shore. I did not choke on the weeds that threatened to suffocate me, they became the ladder back to the abandoned lighthouse. There was no savior that came to rescue me from myself, instead, I learned to fend for myself, to never be a victim-- or a martyr-- ever again.

Where is your crew? What has become of your ship? Are you the lone sailor on the beach, the survivor of a mutiny that brought you down from your mastery into just another peon, searching for a genie's lamp in the sand? Are you still waiting for the wizard to bestow you with the riches you think you deserve, without having worked to keep the simplest prizes that had come your way? Are you waiting for the siren's call to give you the meaning of life?

Imagine the Possibilities...

My love has to live somewhere, whether it is in the realms of my fantastic mind, or in the reality of this world. There are times when my Love finds a place here on Earth, and I rejoice in its glory, bathe in its splendor, and wish beyond all hopes that it stays. Alas, because we are all too human and such perfections cannot last forever, my love will suffer when it is no longer reciprocated, retreating back to its sanctuary within the protected walls of my mind's fantasy. In this place, my love finds its solace in the images which I've locked into my psyche as eternally beautiful, ethereal and non-threatening. They are possibilities for everlasting love that can only be reality within fantasy. They can never retreat, punish, wound, or insult the spirit of my love; instead, my love regains its strength from these images. 

I wish that I could allow my love to live outside these walls, but there is no one guardian in whom I can wholly trust to protect, nurture, and appreciate it. If there was only the possibility of such a savior in this world where my love could fall into its devoted hands, then I could search forever for that paragon. I would need to find another soul like mine that understands this aching need within me to connect my love to that of another..

I truly believe, however, in this day and age of hopelessness and disconnection with the supernatural, the type of love that exists within me can never survive. This is a world that thrives on instant self-gratification and even-quicker disposal. My love is far too naive and too vulnerable to ever flourish. It is dually sought and abandoned for its intensity. It is claimed, but never kept. It is wanted, but then rejected. It is used, and then discarded. 

If this world weren't so filled with rage, anger and greed, imagine the possibilities for what could be...