Natural Order

An old man who never forgets sits on his porch and watches as passersby pass him by and time follows closely behind. He used to perch himself atop the crest of a hill and take in the scenery, but his bones are too old to make the climb now. Now he just sits on his porch, remembering.

He could have settled somewhere else more suitable for his desired mode of life, and as long as he thinks this way, he must avoid death so as not to be buried with his regrets. He is old but he still has lessons to learn. He still has demons in his head and a closet teeming with skeletons.

Enmity is not the remedy, he knows. Searching for the solution leaves him in confusion and the deliberation leaves him debilitated.

He is not who he once was, but he remembers. Oh yes, he remembers.

The Story of a Life

A boy stood with his whole life before him and he wondered how he was supposed to catch up with it.

Life teased the boy by showing him what it'd be like if he could just move a little more gracefully. It showed him beauty and love and passion. It told him he'd figure it out one day.

The boy believed it and waited patiently. He waited and he waited and he sat and he waited. As he sat, his limbs lengthened. His face grew hair, which turned gray then white as the surface it grew on became wrinkled with time.

As he sat, he learned fear and he learned doubt. He discovered the potency of their combination and realized he was no match for his own mind.

So life laughed at him and the man tried to laugh back but failed. His mind went blank and he gave up on his eyes. He fell on his back and tears rolled out the sides.

Life left him there alone on the ground.

A Life of Botany

There is a gardener who takes great pleasure in watering his flowers. If he could, he would spend all of his days tending to these plants and watching them blossom into beauty. The problem is that they can only drink so much. Too much and they'll drown.

The poor gardener keeps repeating his mistake of over-watering his beloved flowers. One after another, he watches them die.

The gardener knows that maybe if he let someone else tend to the flowers, they would thrive. This thought shatters his heart. He should walk away. He should give up. Maybe he can try raising a new kind of plant.

He just loves those flowers.

Clifford Jumping

I have forgotten myself. The clouds have been speeding me up and everything passes around me in a blur of transient art.

Sometimes I must remind myself. Breathe.Look.Listen.

I have been sprinting toward an end with complete disregard for the means. It's a good thing I caught myself at the edge before plummeting into the ravine of repercussions ready to wreak havoc on my bones. I'm in a delicate, precarious position.... and I want to jump. Let's just make sure I jump and don't fall.