Do We or Don't We? Syria

Children like the walking dead. A school attacked from the air by a Syrian army plane, which drops
something akin to Napalm.

Children lying stone cold and still. Their tiny arms folded across their bodies, their bodies lined
up across the ground, their eyes closed forever. Their crime? Living in war torn Syria. Their deaths
brought on by chemicals launched in the dead of night. They had no chance.

We watch these images, some of us turn it off, just to avoid the horror. I hate to tell you, but that doesn't make it go away.

The media reports that Americans are war weary. War weary? Yes we've lost so many in recent years, but do we really have the right to make the claim that we are war weary??? I would think that the people of Syria are the ones truly entitled to make that claim. And now the leader of their country has obviously decided that he has to wipe out the survivors of what will most likely be a lost generation of
Syrians by setting his sights on them. The children.

I get it. I don't want to see any of the incredibly brave men and women of our military put in harm's way. Hell, in a perfect world we would never have to witness that. This world is obviously far from
perfect.

How are we supposed to simply shut off the TV, close our laptops, and look the other way when children are being burned alive, poisoned, and slaughtered before our eyes. If Syria or any other country proposed and carried out this sort of attack on American soil how quickly would we dish up
retribution? No, it is not our country, it is not our civil war, and they are not our people, but since when
are the children of one country any less precious than another's? If we don't come to the aid of innocence when it is threatened, how long will it be before it is lost completely?

Watching the Olympics & considering humanity

It's August 7th 2012. I am watching some of the track and field of the 30th Olympiad. It is truly an opportunity to see the best aspects of human behaviour.

Not in the competition, but in the way that people from around the globe treat one another in their best and worst moments. Triumph and adversity.

In The Silence

I lie here in the dark
waiting.
I know they will come.
This patience
this illuminated wakefulness
will be rewarded by their gradual arrival.
Silent,
velvet stealth
brings them near.
Dark grandeur
seductive violence.
Brutes
and ethereal souls
they whisper into the dream tapestry.
Only in the dark may I view their perfection.
Only in the silence may I hear their stories.

The Show Must Go On...right?

Left behind. Dazed, hollow we band together in grief. 


After the storm, there was no center left. No core. No hub. Nothing to strengthen those left. We spread out, across the country in shock. Driven. Some by choice. By necessity. Landfall was eternal. The waters still recede. 
The disease left behind both visible, and invisible. Some recover. Some thought they were cured. Some thought themselves immune. They were the ones that never had a chance.


You were a survivor. An escape artist of the highest degree. Self sculpted magician. Necromancer. You reanimated the dead, and hung them suspended between heaven and hell for the world to see. You offered them each the cure for every ill they laid at your feet. Each solution tailored, lovingly crafted in metal and pain. Offering them a place of freedom in their own souls. Teaching them the escape route that lay within their own minds.


A freedom I thought you had attained long ago. Did you give it to them beacuse you could never find the way yourself?
Or was that the price you paid for sharing your knowledge with them?
I am left to this question alone. You are beyond reach.


You chose door number three. You knew what waited there, and you embraced it in your final leap.


In your final performance, we are the ones left with your pain.