“Empty Chair” cont...

                                                       “Empty Chair” cont...

Yet in my world, now lurks the kindling desire of degradation and despair, cast aside thoughts of suicide, a place harboring no kind of pride and yea, (I tried), even thought at one point, I before morning had died..No one knows what the pillow quietly bestowed, he's seen a lot and told a lot, my mind did he blow. His,(unlike mine), were whispered secrets of a past life, are were they just a brief future foot-note, to whats left to come. You see I being an old wooden chair, flaunting dead sea air, on a boat that refuses to even float..So we all know, the pillow is known to talk but right now please just lend a ear, you see I keep having this dream, that somewhere there exist a set of chairs, both being unsparingly occupied but one of which, (sheds of tear).. With the warmest of memories, being forever told, ecliptic sunsets in the exotic East beholds and the nights, (never) held strong hold, to the“cold.”Though both chairs are seated side by side, in there place of dwelling, they appeared very much UN-whole and with no specificity of time, could be heard telling. No not a bird in hand, as the morrow of the story will be told and their faith with destiny, within this chapter, not soon too unfold. It seemed a time, which held a special part of me, thus searching for a reason why I can't remember, for whom and to whom, I truly belonged. This became my reasoning on one hand for closure but on the other, as a prisoner, to a life belonging to another, to one who's life, that I have pretended to be a part of and knowing all along, it was one, not to be easily had.. It appears, “ties” had been severed and for no definite, (let alone apparent) reasoning attached. So much do I feel, but how much of it is real, its as if, (right here), I feel to belong but not sure if I should stay, some what feeling guilty, juggling both worlds, (the night and the day), Longing to stay, yet selfish ties to my present being, has away of convincing me, that being here may just be my destiny and that selfish thoughts, only exist if there's someone else sobriety on life and the need for it in full, solely depended on my departure. (Ow yes), my “well being,” has been without malice and fully compromised in one world but somehow, I felt the sense of a candle flickering far away, within the still winds of the other. A collection of candle flies, being the only interruption to its flame, as they near their life's end. Yet to burn so bright, it owned, the place of night, so I knew this light, glowed for a friend....Why feel as though, (where now sits, a chair of one), in this particular time, not knowing my real reason, for this existence was the right place to be, when in this dream, there appears a better place, a better time, have I been acquainted and feverishly feels as though, I must return. But where and how, do I return to a life, spawned through a dream, a mere nights slumber, hold the key to whom I use to be....Each night I lay reveals another intricate piece to this unsolved puzzle, not to mention its presumptive completion. One day, I am sure, judging from the night sweats, it'll be just a dream away. So today this old chair with its back against the wall, shall not sub-come to the elements, in its search through many winters, springs and all falls, as it smothers beneath times, collected, powered, sediments....The will to prevent my fall, is getting harder, each day that approach and vicariously, then fade away. So a message in a bottle, (though there were many already sent),will continue being my leverage, I'll thank God and send it on its way...I will spend a frantic forever, searching for that second illusive chair...to be cont....Thus enters, (Two empty chairs), written by: Poetess (Flower Girl),with her permission and inspired by her lovely piece (Two Empty Chairs ), a poem i admire, even more than my own.....Thank you dear lady....

*More of a story told than poem in this to be cont.... piece......A comatose man, dreaming to be an old discarded chair, wishing to be a man in search of a solution, to a checkered and uncertain past. He feels, if he can just find the "two empty chairs,” he can begin to find himself and the many reasons, he was so compelled to find the occupant of the other, setting in motion, the process of healing for them both....Jim.

Fictitious*