Pen Me a Picture

You beauty you.  Resplendent and sweet. How deeply you sob. Gracefully releasing a pain in your heart. Haunted by lustful eyes.  You are a golden soul. Do not paralyze your bright mind for the sake of fools. Those that pitifully mistake you for a fool’s gold.  You are not that fake, lackluster, falsified metal. Though beautiful it may be, valuable it is not. The pure gold you are made of can withstand the heat of any man! Conduct the volts needed to amplify any life you choose. Light touches you then leaps back onto whatever stands near. The whole world knows what you are worth. What you can do.  No man can change that.  Don’t let go of your golden soul. 

05/04/20 He blew out the candles atop the pile of dough with doubt in his eyes. The smoke rising to the ceiling as he looked at his feet. Blessings and wishes are only for the ones who can stand waiting and never receiving. He said to himself. “Where does the grant come from if not someplace real that doesn’t know who I am and doesn't hear my soft childish whisper in want?” If the place from which wishes are granted is real, why hadn’t any of his previous wishes come true? At age 11, his childish, hopeful mind began to leave him to be replaced by the doubt and fear that haunts every aged person. He began the journey away from the soft, kind, untethered soul of a child, to a broken, burdened man. Little did the ones at his party know he became a man the moment he blew out the flames. The cake was a symbol. Cake and candles. They aren’t about birth, they are about death. Each year blowing out candles into wax blobs where childhood flames once burned. Sugar and fat prepare the bo