Pure

It is not being afraid to cry out in a library, a park bench, a church pew…..
With songs playing, notes hit, chords struck….setting off feelings from long ago….. ten years ago…..ten days ago…. the last few seconds…..allowing all that is human to be seen…..

In being alone there is solace, a tranquility never experienced by the king….the queen….nor their court….to one’s self be true whatever the cost….it is bound to be beautiful….rich…..plentiful….Take it all in…..these streets where lost souls pray upon those considered weak….these homes where brothers are not protectors….. churches, churches, churches……wanting money well spent, a down payment for a soul if you will…..

I see the thousand dollar suits, the coiffed hairdos, the smartphone manifestos spewed out on dating websites for those seeking connections without costs, without suffering; all gratis…..it’s the here and now….batteries not included….

And so I sit in a library listening to Central Park West played by Coltrane….and I am crying……this is what it means to have joy……

Let the tears roll….let the crying commence….let peace reign for a thousand years….what is the cost….

Posted from WordPress for Android

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dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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