Sometimes I wonder if anything's absolute anymore. Is there still Right and Wrong? Good and Bad? Truth and Lies? Or is everything negotiable, left open to interpretation, grey? We're often forced to bend the truth, transform it, because we find ourselves assaulted with things that are not of our own making, and then sometimes things simply just catch up to us. You must believe truth is still absolute, even when that truth is hard and cold, and much more painful than you've ever imagined, and even when the truth in itself proves more vicious, more cruel than any lie.

Have you wondered what marks our time here? Haven't you weighed the notion of whether or not one life is capable of imprinting an impact on the world, perhaps even considered the theory that the choices we've made really do matter? I firmly believe they do, and I still very much believe that one person, a sole individual does possess the power to alter many lives. For better or worse.

Life always runs off course at some point and it is in this desperate moment that you're forced to choose your direction. Do you fight to stay on the path while all those surrounding you continue telling you who you are? Or do you choose to label yourself instead? Will you be honored by your choice, or will you embrace your new course? Do you decide, determine to move forward with every new morning or do you console defeat and surrender? We're only able to truly discover who we are when we've been tested, and it's only while we're being tested that we discover, confront in fact, who we can ultimately be. The person we want to be does exist, somewhere on the other side of hard work, faith, belief, and far beyond the HEARTACHE and fear of what life was, is and continually offers to us day after day.

Every once in awhile, every now and again, people do push on to something better, something found in the distance absence of the pain of going it alone, past the bravery and courage necessary to allow someone inside... or to allot someone a second, undeserving chance, to advance toward something quite separate from the quiet persistence of a dream. We all encounter these moments where we find ourselves at a crossroad, afraid, confused, and most certainly without a reliable road map. The decisions made in these moments define us for the rest of our day, but all too often, when faced with the unknown, most prefer to turn and return to what is familiar, safe and known.

Think of "stepping up," a fairly simple concept, one which requires us to simply rise above ourselves and do a little more, show those around us something special. When someone, something, or anything really disappears from our world, finality is not necessarily automatic. I suppose life is somewhat humorous in that sense; she pushes so hard and is so punishingly unrelenting, she forces you to pull a trigger or light a flame you soon learn you can never take back, never erase, never ever force into the realm of 'just another bad dream'. I imagine this is where most find that "stepping up" comes into focus, but I think, in life, one should deem this ingrained instinct as "pushing back." People often "step up," they "push back" and they come to stand above their former self. Sometimes they surprise you, and sometimes they fall short. Life always shoves and shoves so hard, too hard, but if you take the time to actually look close enough, you'll find hope still thrives in the words of children, in the bars of a soft melody, and in the eyes of someone you love... And if you're lucky, if you're truly blessed, the one your heart dedicates its love to will wholly love you in return.

Does this darkness have a name, this cruelty and this hatred? How does it find us? Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and then anxiously embrace it? What happened to us that we now send our children out into this world like we send young men away to war, all the while hoping for their safe return but knowing that some, if not most, will surely be lost along the way? When did we lose our way? We're still here, consumed by the shadows, swallowed whole by an unidentifiable darkness and I can't help but wonder... Does this darkness have a name? Is it your name?

Most of our lives are a series of images which pass us by like towns on a distant highway, but sometimes a moment stuns us as it occurs and then we know, we finally know that this single instance is so much more than a fleeting image. We know that this moment, every part of it, will live on forever. We must always remember tonight, for they really are the beginning of always... a promise maybe, perhaps even a reward of some sort for persisting through life for so long alone with ourselves and the firm, almost obsessive belief in each other and the possibility of love. We hold tight to the decision to ignore and rise, rise above the pain and suffering of the past and forge a covenant instead, one that at once binds two souls and inevitably severs prior ties. It is this celebration of the chance taken and the swelling anticipation of awaiting challenges that motivates us, hungers us... for two will always be stronger than one, akin to a team braced against the tempests of the world, and love will always, always be that guiding and driving force in our lives. Tonight, tomorrow night, and all those that will surely follow are mere formality, forever preceding an expected announcement to the world of emotions long held and promises whispered long ago in the sacred space of our hearts.

Kahlil Gibran wrote: Your reason and your passion are the rudder and sails of your seafaring soul. If either be broken, you can but toss and drift or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas. For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining. And passion, unattended is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

The sparrow doesn't sing; sorrow clipped his wings
How lightly he was perched upon the icy birch
His lover shot a dart through his tender heart
He tumbled to the ground hoping he'd be found
His stiffened body lies beneath the sun-filled skies
To make reminder of to care for those we love.

You swear
That you'll never forget the way
It felt. That you'll remember until
The day you die, exactly how
His hand felt as it stroked your hair.

And the taste
Of his lips on yours and the warmth
Of his body. You never do.

You forget. Time
Moves on, memory fades, until
One day all you have left is the
Vague recollection of a man

You once knew.
You remember how much you liked
The feel of his stubble as he
Nuzzled your neck. But when once just
The memory of his touch was
More than enough to send tingles

Down your spine, now
All you can remember is that
He did it - and it was good.

You wonder
If it would still be that good, if
The situation arose, and
It happened one more time. Would it
Still feel the way it did back then?

Would you notice
The difference if it didn't?
Would it ever live up to the
Memory? That faded withered
Memory. Strange how though you can't
Remember it, you know it was

Wonderful.
And nothing can live up to that.