Mine. Yours. Ours.

Since the Space here is Infinite, I will fill it with anything and Everything that comes across my mind..













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Death Cab for Cutie- "I Will Possess Your Heart":

How I wish you could see the potential
The potential of you and me.
It's like a book elegantly bound,
But in a language that you can't read just yet.

You gotta spend some time, love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you'll find love.
I will possess your heart.

You gotta spend some time, love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you'll find love.
I will possess your heart.

There are days when outside your window,
I see my reflection as I slowly pass.
And I long for this mirrored perspective,
When we'll be lovers, lovers at last.

You gotta spend some time, love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you'll find love.
I will possess your heart.

You gotta spend some time, love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you'll find love.
I will possess your heart.
I will possess your heart.
I will possess your heart.

You reject my advances and desperate pleas.
I won't let you, let me down so easily, so easily.

You gotta spend some time, love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you'll find love.
I will possess your heart.
________________________________________________________________


What were you hoping for at the end of the day? What do you want from me, we've been through this before. At times there is only so much that can be said. At times the silences I should be filling somehow are left unrecognized. What do you say to that. What do you want from me. Where are we going, what does it matter. What if we never get there. Sometimes we find ourselves in situations we never never thought possible. Unfamiliar, yet existing just as unquestionable as the breath in the lungs. My thoughts are so scattered.What is happening half way across the world?

I'd like to sit by the sea
Watch the waves crash
And remember what every year has meant to me

Words and Words and a few more Words.
Mine. Your. Ours.
Can you own your words?
Or do they belong to the world?

पास
Mandy

Just Thoughts, Quickly Conveyed.

The voices of the past call me into the present. I begin to wonder what I was so determined to leave behind. Why would I hide the truth of who I am; it's all I have. And as I come upon the blessing of the return to my true home, I must accept what I find.

We lived our lives
In colors and scents
Conversations we wished would never end
Streets I've walked a thousand times
Don't seem so familiar any more

You look different my dear
What happened this year?
Cheeks flushed
Your mind Closed

Where are you headed, old friend?
Do you remember what you said to me last?
How the days come and only memories last.
Do you remember the lake and trees?
The photograph I snapped
And filed away

I hear your voice
And smile
Like a hurricane in my mind.

Oh the places we've been
The secrets we know
Sometimes I cringe
And the world knows
For a moment I am removed

Where are you going old friend?
Can I accompany you there?
Will you still want my words
The laughter and tears
Do you need me now
In the separation of years?

And what do I expect to find, gently drifting back to the place I once knew so well.
As we pass through our lives, we gather a list of places and events... memories kept deep inside. A part of who we become, a part of where we will go. But what leaves the greatest impression ? The friendly face across the table, cup in hand. The smile behind the camera, waiting to catch those who fall. The hand that's offered and held.. and held and held and held. The hands through hair, the powerful embrace. The knowing look. The laughter shared day after day. The motivation. The endless seas of inspiration. The fence quickly jumped. The swings that flowed in tandem. The eyes that knew. The words so loaded. The comprises. The moments spent reflecting. The love, the hate, the ecstacy. The trust. The evenings.

Evenings remind me of myself the most. Of the places I've been. Sun setting on a land so flat , seas of asphalt. Phrases said a thousand times. The stripmall horizon. That hill I slide down time after time. The lamp-post against the vibrant skies, a setting sun. Slow and quit songs. Loud and unforgettable memories.

Where are you headed, old friend?

____________________________________________________


"The past and present wilt-I have fill'd them, emptied them,
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)"

-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself.


____________________________________________________

May your path be long and winding.

पास
Mandy

Where will we Go

I have found, upon venturing the experience, a new perception of You.

We have wandered through fields in our dreams. The wheat brushed against our thighs . We skipped and ran. Footfalls on endless seas of golden stalks, our own private celebration. Shades of lion. Whisps of gray. The sky. The land. The dirt turned to mud as the solstice comes, and quickly goes. Two worlds emerge, two hands submerged under the cover of our ocean of dreams. Sometimes I dance. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes it seems like I could fly. In the field, the sum of spring, summer, winter, fall. Fall down in the shades and bathe in tubs of beauty. We come here to never wish precious moments of life away. Always want to stay, safe in the embraces of earthen aroma. Hint of heart, scent of the mark. The mark on the hand that embraces the world, swallows experiences whole. Desperately dragging the depths of existence from the depths of the soul. To savor. To regret. To share and shave away the darker parts of our walled off hearts. We open. Extrapolate. Symbolically appropriate. The steps in the dark that reached the ears of children hoping for praise. Dreams filled with gardens. Trees filled with birds. Their song drifts to us, familiar yet unheard. Our field. My venue. Our stage. I stand and produce sound. Celebrated gifts and dandellion whips. Streams and flows. The mind keeps working and waiting and laughing. They laughed at your simplicity. Folds of the scarf gripped so tightly around necks to hold in the warmth. To hide until the skin is open to the field in which we lay. Lay down your head. What do you dream of when you have a world of everything?

पास
Mandy

One Night

It began one night in the dark. What history shall we write tonight? With determined action comes determined advice. Be certain of the uncertainties before driving into the night to ask the universe for a bargain.

[Where was your true motivation]

He struck the keys so elegantly, a simple tune released from strings struck in tempo. A rhythm. Defined and recognized. Measurable, countable. Execution; the simple calculated movements of fingertips on black and white keys. Beyond. What hours were spent laboriously searching for the notes. For creation. For renunciation. For meaning in the resulting collection. Greatest moments of the mind's selection, one must find fortitude in the face of floods. of Inspiration.

पास
Mandy

Simple

Sometimes we Smile
for the
lens
poised and waiting

sequence of memories
Captured
yet remembered?

I saw the photographs on your wall. And I wondered, were these some of the greatest moments of your life, created and captured with a simple contraption that has become the icon of memories? Do you see beyond the lens, and acquire the understanding of a new kind of beauty, forever your own? Each image tells a story. Moments we missed, cherished, shared, forgot. There's something so personal about photography, and the universe exposes itself to the hands of the practiced eye. Inconsequentially captured, these are the images that rot under our beds and fill our hard-drives. We try desperately to package that feeling and store it in our banks forever, to be called upon on days distant and unknown. Will it matter if we smiled?
I saw the photograph on my wall, and realized it was pouring that day.




Chicago, ice rink in Millenium Park, a few years ago.


flakes accumulate on sleeves
crunching footsteps
fall in
Ineffable silences

Repairable
The Cuff
of the sleeve
torn long ago

And so is true
for the heart
found in the
chill
of night


पास
Mandy