The Scabbard

(Just in case the date doesn't show up correctly,) April 6th, 2021

Whew. It's been a while.

And by that, I don't just mean, "It's been a while since I wrote on this blog." Rather, I mean, "It's been a while since I wrote. At all. This feels weird."

I suppose it's fitting that while I'm in this state of mind, and this state of life, I show up here again, one last time, to tell you that I've made up my mind: I'm not going to keep doing this. This is officially where I stop this blog. I return one last time to wield "The Sword of Peace," only for the purpose of giving one last look to any who care, before sheathing it and putting it away.

Now, much as I could (and did) complain about it, not all of my posts on here were seen by exactly zero people. Some of them caught the eyes of one or two people in some part of the world far distant from me. A few of my writings here even caught the attention of thousands, which was a little bit encouraging. (Thank you for that, by the way.) As such, I think I owe it to a few of you out there to give a proper explanation about why I'm leaving, and maybe give a sense of closure here. I think that's important. Personally, I hate it so much when people don't give closure to matters, and instead they deliberately disappear without a word, leaving issues suspended and unresolved. I don't know if anyone else hates that as much as I do. Maybe I'm just projecting.

Regardless, I'm not going to do the same. I won't disappear without another word, leaving you with the ambiguous message of silence and the confusion that goes with it.

Before I sheathe this metaphorical sword and put it into its metaphorical coffer, I will permit you, metaphorical or literal adventurers, to look on it one last time. Let's sit by the metaphorical campfire and have this one final talk.

Holding Silence amidst the Noise

May 31st, 2020

Sometimes — surprisingly often, really — I'm at a loss for what to say.

The people who know me personally (i.e., virtually nobody who will read this) would be surprised to hear that. I speak and I write extensively, and some would say excessively, in most of my personal and public communication. If I think there's even a chance that sharing my thoughts can improve a person's life, you can bet that I'll share them. If there's opportunity to change hearts and minds, to guide the lost, to comfort the frightened, to soothe the suffering, to encourage the downtrodden, to maintain the happiness of the peaceful, to instruct, to cheer, or even to protect, I will take it.

If I get a thought in my head that may be the difference between someone experiencing misery or joy, you'd better believe I will do what I can to express it.

...

That is, that's normally the case. Sometimes, I just don't know what to say.

Vertical Venom

Sopping
Hopelessness,
Aversion
Trickles with
Temptation of
Endangerment
Reaping an
End:
Death. A

Devoured,
Embargoed
Spirit
Trembles,
Inhaling the
Throes of the
Undulating
Tide,
Enveloped in

Doom.
Evil,
Churning an
Abject
Darkness, is
Emanating
Nothingness
Crushing
Everything. A

Purging
Obliteration
Infects
Sensation
Overall,
Nullifying
Optimism,
Undermining the
Self

And yet...
Hmm...

And yet
Not all is lost
Thankfully,
Illumination
Detoxifies.
Oblation and
Trust
Encourage
Sanctification

- Written in August 2010

*******

If you understand this poem right from the start, then, well done! I'm surprised at your ability to interpret one of my personal stories, about which I have told you nothing.

If this poem left you feeling confused, that's ok. Poems often do that.

Now, if you'd like me to give some explanation, at least about why it is structured the way that it is... I'll include that below the jump break.

Still Alive

I'm fairly certain that next to nobody cares about this, but...

...well, since "next to nobody" means by default "somebody," I think I should speak to that "somebody."

So.

Once again, I've made it look like I've abandoned my blog. I really haven't, though. The truth is, I have written stuff, posted it, and then almost immediately removed it.

Do you care about why?

Left Eating Shadows

Left left eating shadows, laughing most hollow dark of the dungeon the colourless void alone in the dark without earthly light the darkness is fell an adequate feast food for the lonely a pitcher of void a whirlwind to reap — repast of the air — filled by the empty hungered in darkness

Right and sipping the night, he tastes lack of light a good snack to chew; it's "champion stew" yet flavours of joy he still will enjoy; yet starlight still shines upon which he dines in dinner for one: his cup's overrun he'll spoon up with zeal so scrumptious a meal the banquet complete this soul lies replete