Saturday morning....

  Been feeling tired and a bit run down today.  All I want to do is be still and silent; sit in life and let it wash over me and try not to fight it too much.  I stayed up late last night with a loved one.  Watching a bit of television and hanging out; trying to forget how much life has sometimes bullied us and beat us until we are black and blue but for the most part I am happy with my loved ones and accept for the money factor I feel good about the life that I have been a part of throughout the years.  It's funny when you think about how short your time is here.  It's only a second and then we are gone-food for worms and perhaps something else.  We can only hope that we will go someplace after we die, where we will be reunited with our love ones and surrounded by happiness.  It is this odd thing called faith that we hold in our pockets, like a shiney is new coin and try not to lose.  I sometimes forget that the life that I have now will one day be over and all those that I love will be lost to me one by one, until maybe I am the last one standing.  I never thought that I would ever be the last one standing.  I never thought that I was strong enough for that or brave enough, but in the last couple of weeks I have found this power inside of me that I never knew existed and it has carried me through to the otherside.  I always thought that I would be the one to end my life early, to cut out of the game because I was genetically programed to do so but maybe I was wrong.  I have ignored what my blood lines said so far and gone against the grain, so this shouldn't surprise me but what makes me excited is that I never knew I could be this strong.  I always thought that I was the weak one, but maybe I was wrong about that too.  In the darkness of the early morning, music rises from the living room.  The notes run down the walls like ribbons of blood, as if this house-this home-is alive.  The pace of all of our heartbeats as we sleep or sit typing or collecting our thoughts through scraps of dusty paper make this a home.  Embrassing what is ours, we find support for another day and place our powers into tight and tidy spaces.  We feel love and it is this wooden beam that protects us from the rising day; it is this cohesive thought of comfort that we take with us into the fight-into the war-praying for another day that we can rise from the ashes and sleep again in our beds-safe.