Alien

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Alien

Alien life, in this skin, in these bones.
In what world do I make sense?
I am alive only in trees,
Only in this:
the pages of my dreams.
Others, prefer a shell,
A visitation of emptiness.
I cannot belong, to their ranks
of hopeless wanderings through
fields of things –
Living was just not made for me.
I breathe an air, crystal and blue,
Light, the particles, of me and you.
I stop to give up,
I stop to give in,
I continue, to fly,
in ships that no one else can see.
I am, not just, but in part,
An alien life form,
Looking OUT, looking UP.

-LFE

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alien
adjective \ˈā-lē-ən, ˈāl-yən\
belonging to another

Unyielding

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Dear Friends,

Grief piled on top of grief as I walked with the lines of time upon my face. Everyday living was too much for me, and I did not know how to make this understood:

When my head hung down, I was crying.
When my eyes looked away, I was breaking.
When my voice was silent, I was breathing ache.

This is what it’s like for me, to walk with Aspergers while walking in the world: grief is always on my heels. I lack a capacity for wrongs, for evils, for selfishness, for greed. I feel every weight of every decision – I see every injustice, I hear every lie, I carry every destruction – and they sit with me as pain. This is my burden; this is why I search for hope in every facet of every thing. This is why I cling to the good with unyielding tenacity. When I know what is right, I will not let go.

My grandest hope is that one day I will be able change the world with the light I seek. I am desperate for another way; a kinder way. I will sit with brokenness until I have found all the answers to our need. I will do it, because I must. This pain is not enough.

Today, this is a call to every desperate heart – the ones that find that living is just not enough. Wherever you are, raise your arms to the light and cry out for more. Your voice matters. I know. I can feel it. The goodness of desperation cannot go unanswered – it will find its mark.

Wishing for the world,

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Dancing in the Dark | 21.

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21.

Listening on a mountaintop,
The call, it was, “Return!”
To a higher plain, a risen way
through waves of time and through the space
of all that has ever been and made,
In Rocks and Stones
of highlights old,
In reels and films, and
Adventurer’s days,
Listening to none, but
Heart and soul,
Making ways in walls of stone;
This is the breaking down of men
Within their hearts to Nature’s way,
Where somehow,
Simplicity reigns, and
Men are free to gain again,
In wars and peace, in throes they ache,
to find a kinder, valiant way, of
Heroes dancing upon waves-
Invisible Light, in Vision made,
And to restore what should have been-
In the beginning: it will stay.

-LFE, Dancing in the Dark: poems from the night hours

I saw it in a dream.

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Dear Friends,

Lightning struck my dreams like a thread of angst. I could see it in the clouds: a storm was breaking in me. To hide or to run?

At night, my mind has always painted the most vivid portraits; impressions of a thousand realities. They are the canvases of my fears, hopes and maybes…the stories I can hardly bear to tell. I’ve seen giants on the moon and Arabian princes; ghosts from the past and reminders for the future. I’ve seen impossible wanderings and daring flights through shadowed lands. I’ve climbed beneath a world of oppressive tables and circles…where ordinary life is a maze of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ proportions. Each morning I wonder: will I wake from these dreams and find myself? Will I be lost? They cause me to greet the sun with heavy eyes; unable to process what the night wove within me. Speech fails in the daylight of these memories; words come far too easy.

This grand display of life’s footage has been my struggle since childhood. I was born with dreams, the sparks of time and hidden worlds, and with a mind that absorbs absolutely everything – the best and the worst. I am learning to accept the lessons. They teach me of my own pain, of worlds and things I do not understand and of the depths of possibility. They teach me that darkness cannot last forever, that stories are meant to have endings and that we can be better than the worst in us.

If you’re out there today and you’re overwhelmed by the intangibles, the concretes, the unspoken-about-things:

Hold fast,
I can see the light shining through.

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