Shadow boxing ( Archived) (25)

I saw the moon tonight, it rested there tilted as a most bright shining white tropical fruit chopped in half, of sort. Aligned towards the dark, dense and almost mythologicaly magic backdrop.

Sometimes you notice the moon, sometimes you don't. Sometimes it gathers your attention, very much so, like this moon of crescent or gibbous, I'm not certain of which phase of either one mentioned it was, but it gathered my attention nevrtheless.
Sometimes, mind, it is simply there, the moon is rising above you, setting against your horizon, unnoticed, forever it will be there, continued travelling and phasing way beyond the time of our steps on this soil.

These moments appear in life. Moments of realization. Times when you have an answer to a question you didn't even know you had. Some moments, some truths overwhelm you simply in that way where you are not really shocked, they just serve as a reminder of how humble you really need to remain under these skies. Have you ever reached the moment of realization where you finally grasp a greater fact becoming a given certain?

A definite is never a definite, because nothing less than miracles have enough of times in this world and throughout history contradicted the definities of the sorrow man's kind. But still.

I came to realize the other day that I will most likely not have a child of my own. No daughter to take to the designer on her seventh year since birth and have a new dress - of her own little beautiful choice - be had made for her last day of her first year in school.
And I will not be sat on Christmas morning, having been up until very late on the eve before trying to get my son go to sleep, hiding presents and pretending stories as to build on the surprise when he awakes come that day, when him, rubbing his eyes for that brief moment, of great sensation a child does on a day when the child suddenly remembers great moments are abound to be had, realising what day it is, he comes running down the stairs with the beautiful smile only an anticipating son on Christmas day can sport.

No regrets, no sadness. Simply realization.

Some moments in life, you find yourself under the dim lights of gas-lit street lamps, against a grey concrete wall is your body, the ghost-like motion with its distinct contour, your right side of a somewhat seemingly sorrowed face is towards the wall, arms punching that air which is giving meek resistance, no restistance to be honest. You're a fighter with fists covered by nothing but some thin cloth over knuckles, as is what fighters not yet in a fight wear. You're practicing your muscles against and towards oxygen.

I have new stories, every day a new. They are my stories mostly, and mostly for me and mine they remain. Sometimes they simply appear, and as simple as they arrive, as simple they are. There is no struggle to pen them down, there is no effort.
Some find error in them being brought forth here, some find a wrong constitution in them being written out loud.
Like the shadow of a boxer, they are not there before I move, they are not there after I move, they arrive as I move. They simply are.

Awesome post!

Stress, you've done some writing yourself of late which has captivated me!

Thing is, it's all gifts come from gifts. Writing comes from inspiration. Always. No one can write from the heart without inspiration. And these past weeks, some of your brilliant thoghts, ideas, and words have inspired.

Everything written which is of value is inspired by something of greater value, and something which truly is the source of it becoming at all.

Any time you might be on your way to Gothenburg, you must let me know. The pints are on me!

OH GOD! Please don't drink together!





I sense trouble!

Oh, what we should do is have a Scandinaviathon

All of us meeting and having a great party!

Anything but have you two together, alone.


That would be awesome!