| Be...in all Your Power &
Magnificence From the Editor | by Tim Miejan "What shall we use to fill the empty spaces, Where we used to talk? How shall I fill the final places? How shall I complete the wall?" -- Empty Spaces, Pink Floyd Walking headlong into the sands of time, I come face to face with myself. Every time. I tell myself, "We have to stop meeting like this." Myself responds, "Yeah, right." As if we can ever stop being who we are. I look at myself in the mirror and see the reflection. I look closer, intently into my own eyes. The process takes me deeper and deeper. It's like looking into the darkness of space. Looking at yourself, and feeling who you are, are two different things. Do you feel what it's like to be you? Or do you rub up against all the debris that covers you? Debris you burrowed under to hide away from yourself. What if we all wake up one day. Just a normal day. But instead of fitting into our self-prescribed roles, We stand in our power and magnificance. Your power and magnificance lies awake each night. They plot ways to expose themselves to the light of day. But every time, just as they peak out from the shadows, You slam that door shut again. "There must be some mistake, I never meant to let them take, Away my soul. Am I too old? Is it too late?" -- The Show Must Go On, Pink Floyd The woman compliments you on your talents. You respond, "Oh, it is nothing." She asks, "Why do you say that? You are remarkable." You shake your head and walk away. Walking headlong into the sands of time, I come face to face with myself. I look into those tired eyes and I see the weathered skin. I look old. I ask, "What do you see when you look at me?" Myself responds, "What do you want me to see?" I dream that I am standing in a blazing fire. The flames are burning away my flesh. I know the end is near, so I tighten up in preparation for the pain. Suddenly, my body falls to my ankles like a pair of pants and I am still standing. It's said that when we leave this body, a part of us is still conscious. It's said to be that inner voice. You know, like when you talk to yourself. So I wonder...if that inner voice is talking to me, Then who am I -- and who is it? And I wonder...if I am a magnificent light being trapped in this shell of a body, Why doesn't it take control and lead me down the road of happiness? And I listen closely to that still small voice way down inside me, And it says, "You wanted to play. Now you don't want to anymore?" "Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves The echo of a distant tide Comes willowing across the sand And everything is green and submarine And no one showed us to the land And no one knows the wheres or whys But something stares and Something tries And starts to climb towards the light." -- Echoes, Pink Floyd Once I knew how beautiful everything was...the sun, the sky, me But in a dreamy haze, the beauty drifted off in the fog Moving ever so far away...away...away At the exact moment I began to doubt that it was ever there. And then I began to believe again In light and love and joy and peace And in a flash of light, I once again saw beauty before me. And beauty asked, "Why did you change your mind?" Perhaps it is best not to believe in whites and blacks But allow for the possibility of all shades, none better than the rest And perhaps it is best not to believe in walls For none of us truthfully can be contained, just as air cannot be felt Watch the drama queens and kings put on a show each day Talking and walking and squawking over each other Like gerbils on a squeaky wheel, they run so fast And the witness within each of them sits serenely, watching them run and hide. One day, the mail comes and you open the letter. A wedding invitation, who can possibly refuse? And do you take yourself, to love and cherish from this day forward? I do. Tim Miejan is editor of The EDGE. Contact him at (651) 578-8969, toll-free 1 ( 888) 776-5687 or e-mail editor@edgenews.com Copyright © 2004 Tim Miejan |
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April 2004 |
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