Nervous Little Habits Fade

July 7th, 2006- 12: 09 pm1

He was the unsuspecting type. His brute strength, inner love and screeching pain were hidden from his gentle face. The only trace of discomfort fell within the dance of passing nerves; he snapped his gum, bit before the sucker gelled and felt the tip of every bud. Maybe it never surfaced in his eyes, but his life was such a fleeting thing.2

He became accustomed to speeding cars, the nature of nomadic wind and the time it took the trees to abandon all their fruitful- love.3

Somehow, he found himself a taste of these things. His legs were wheels, his breath was air and his heart surely let his love fall down; the ground collected such puddles of himself, and his reflection was known to him.4

He was as wallpaper; always in the room, but never a piece of the atmosphere. It was true that he enhanced, diluted or even removed emotion from the walls that held us all within...5

But, he could not begin to be more than that.6

To these foreign faces, he was the foreigner. To these masters, he played the servant. It was as though he wore intimidation as a ball and chain.7

But, he was saved by something greater; by someone higher. He'd never known such peace.8

No trivial talk was needed. A stack of pancakes and morning juice were not a common bond. The pause, break and launch of words did not help nor hinder this loving gift. It was such a love as this that never asked nor merited what could not be given.9

It was here, in the hours of the morning that very few have come to know, that he held on to his savior. The wind was violent, and the faces cruel... but here, within this room, he was safe from what fell beyond the window.10

He let go of all such fear, and laid his head on warming tears.11

Shortly, the morning clouds had cleared, and the frozen sun had risen. His friend was in his heart, and his life was that much warmer.
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