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Quick Thoughts About August
Author: Luke Mudge

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The sun set gazed down upon me that august night, looking down toward the lake, walking further out past the shore. Set in a body of water that surrounded me, only I could see the beauty. I was the only one that was walking on water that day, one stream color of hazy blue and the reflection of the clouds each step that I took further and further into the lake.

I took a step back, to look at somebody that gazed into this direction before that just laughed it off as to say I was no longer welcomed. Being satisfied in time realizing the stretched out, pointless and relentless struggle, I know that I can at least go bck and gaze into the direction of the abyss, that at that moment, took my soul and skipped my heartbeat, because of the beautiful scene I was walking into.

The struggle, either inhibiting what happens on my everyday journey, or something bigger that is mentally scared into my shoulder, reminding me of the pain that I once had to deal with. Or catching what memories happen to fall upon me during a dead sleep, where the only escape I have is from a phone call, that leads me nowhere, but into another ball of pain, that creates a tear to drown my soul for all eternity.

A song, the mood mellow, the gaze, at the screen, ill type away knowing that I honestly have a feeling, and itís my fingers that put these words into this art form. A look, from somebody as the eyes are hiding something, curiosity, a blank stare, though filled with emotion. Trying to come up with a way to show her my faithfulness, trying to show her how she would be satisfied, through trying to heal the pain that has forsaken her mind and trapped her on the way from escaping.

The sound of a way can bury all senses if you are actually swimming, though the sound of a wave can put you to sleep as well. Love can do that as well, and love can be seen from miles away, by the way you look or feel, or sense somebody. When you sit down by yourself, and look up or out at something, and you think about that somebody, then you take a deep breathe, and somehow, the person you are thinking about, will stop what they are doing, and think about you, and what you are doing as well, then they will also take that deep breathe.

The look up at the sky on a night where everything falls onto your mental plate in the some of a few minutes, you take what you can and hold the rest in the palm of your hands, trying to cope with it all and you struggle not to let go. Calm and steady, you are now gliding, down a path that you werenít looking for, her eyes trusted by something magical at you, then the smell the unique and only steady look, that looked back at you on a quiet cold night.. and the only hint of noise was gleaming from a bring moon shining upon the both of you. I can only think of one thin and itís the patience that is stirring my emotions.

Warming to an unfamiliarly silence, maybe comfortable, maybe unnoticeable, though calm, and for once sturdy. Not something I can actually consider holding back for, something I know I want to go with, making sure my heart isnít out there to be hurt this time, I want to make sure that this is something that my heart is worth beating for. To know the light that gleams at the end of the hallway, and to actually be familiar with it, is unspeakable, but to know whatís actually on the other side of that and beyond is remorseful, youíve been down this path more than once and yet you seem to fall victim every time like youíve never done this before and everything is going to be alright.

A for of redemption possibly, maybe the mental stability, finally the one to walk the street with on a cold, cozy fall dusk. Watching as leaves fall around you, looking up to the faint sunny blue sky, as the street lights begin to flicker, and the steam from a chimney above on the house around you forms. The cool breeze, though bundled up walking next to the one you are with, then you look at her and a smile says a million things and fills a million emotions.

Candle lit, the one small light, so simple, yet you can be in a room, it can be lit with all of the lights off, and it then becomes the center of attention, grabs hold of you and you look at it, knowing what it is, but not letting go, until it goes out. My world turning upside down, though still holding down everything, magically everything is set in place.

The touch of a hand, the scent of the smell, the look from the curious, the hint from your conscious, sets you in tone, and can guide you to an inevitable bliss of happiness and sorrow.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

tracy (69.205.188.98) -- Sunday, September 23 2007, 04:32 pm

august

pretty touching
 
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