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Wizziebeth
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Name: Liz
Birthday: 7/12/1985
Expertise: everything italian, the wind on a sunny day, running, synchronicity, reading, stolen glances, swinging on swings, fish tacos, a good glass of red wine, making my feelings alive on piano keys, deep friendship
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
5/23/2002
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| you finally met your five people today, letting yourself be caught up in their arms as you left this world, watching it all fall behind until it all became small and insignificant. it is finally their turn to explain it all to you, to remove the veil from the masterpiece.
you are the blood running through my veins, my impulsiveness and my love of thought and irony. my life was thought into existence decades and generations ago, when even you were simply an idea in the grandeur of the mastery and your form not yet chiseled into being. and i carry forward the physical marks and symbols, this nose, this forehead, these crinkles around my mouth, the v that forms above my eyes when i ponder. all part of your legacy, art in living and breathing and moving form, inextinguishable and inimitable.
today, against the backdrop of a sky painted with deep purples and greys as if with burdened with tears, it was as if you left your last mark in not one, but two, rainbows. telling us that this is not an occasion for sadness, but joy in your having found a resting place beyond the confines of the human condition and the flesh that binds soul to mundanity. that you have found peace, and finally discovered what it is to be free. that you have met eternity somewhere behind the arc of colors that grants only a glimpse of what lies beyond it.
in loving memory of my grandfather, 09/07/27-09/28/2009 | | |
| you are the beginning and end, the closing of past and the arrival of the future, the ringing in of a new year and the ushering away of the old one. you are that which is new and clean, that which has not yet been touched by the hands of time that desire to handle the delicate threads of that which can rip and tear and be soiled. you are purity undefiled, a promise for tomorrow.
and like with all the rest, i hold back even though i don't want to. i am held back, pushed away and thwarted by walls of experience, fortresses that have long been in place to protect and preserve. and i stand here, desperately chipping them away before it's too late, to create some sort of hole through which to slip a hand, a finger, any sort of warning sign, a white flag to let you know that it matters to this heart of mine, to indicate surrender, even if temporary. and when this doesn't work, i am ready to climb, making my way up and up and up, ready to jump after you if i am too late.
but you see me before i have broken through, hear me even before my voice carries through the stone and my fingers push their way between the cracks. and you catch me before i fall and before i even begin to jump. you run up to meet me, cry with me, laugh with me, holding me back when i reach the edge.
and though i may never stop asking 'what if', possibility long lost has met its match in piercing reality, relegated to its proper place in reminiscence. and while reality always contains the possibility of defeat, we ignore this potential and walk, fingers intertwined, through the uncertainty of it all, heads held high, white flag left to flutter in the wind upon a now-forgotten fortress hill. | | |
| you verified the latent fear that was in my heart, long suppressed by the desire to hold onto the desperate belief that it was really all still possible. but suddenly what was fear turned into freedom, a gift in disguise. all that was left was to erase mementos, messages and memories still caught up in the tangled web of hope that was quickly disintegrating, the welcome acidity of truth melting it all away in an avalanche of relief. the seas of emotion stormed up and died away almost as quickly as they came, lightness settling in their wake.
oh and there are remnants, crumbles of all that i had constructed in my mind. but without them i would be nothing, without them i would be simply a shell, a life unmarked by the moments that strike it through. and when i see them, i remember how i was molded and changed, how i hoped and loved. how i learned that life marches on to its regulated beat and how it is even more beautiful after it all comes crashing down. the dust settling to reveal a brand new foundation upon which to construct the next pieces of the puzzle, pieces and pieces until it all makes sense again.
thank you for releasing me. like a bird stretching its wings after being freed from the confines of its cage, the luminescent sky always visible, now finally accessible. | | |
| it is a fair-weather friend. or enemy, depending on how you look at it. only hitting in these moments, in the seconds when everything has a warm and slight hazy ring around it. when it runs on highs before they crash to lows, when it all makes sense in the senselessness, raw and uninhibited. when truth is at its most charming.
words have exhausted themselves. all there is left to tell you is that you are the apex, the zenith in all its hopeless glory. the days and months tick by continuously as we mark a place far beyond the proper mourning period. and yet i find myself bathed in remembrance, cloaked in fading and tattered black, gliding upon a path whose markers i have passed a thousand and one times, mocked and taunted by those who have understanding, unrecognized by those who do not.
and even in acquiescence and surrender, the ushering in of morning is etched with the remainder of you, scenes that raced through the darkness and haunt in the light. and all that moves through my mind are scenes from the night, from that curtain call of subconscious and hope, all splashed with your face and your voice, your smile and your touch. words that we never spoke are somehow uttered in unfamiliar scenes, and sentences i should haves spoken to you in those moments are conceived only in waking. and in the end you are a fading dream and faded reality, slowly stretching itself out upon a canvas of the past which highlights the imperfections and broken dreams of moments lived, that takes and preserves that which should not and cannot be lost. that is meant to allow the present and future to arrive with their fair share of pomp and circumstance. and all i long to do is run to you, to blurt it all out to the last syllable, to make you understand, even if you do not reciprocate. and perhaps to gift you chance if you do.
are you means or the end in this machiavellian tragedy? and in the void of response, you remain but halcyon ecstasy. pure and undefiled, unaware and unknowing in the wake of cowardice that longs to know respite, that knows no other way. | | |
| who are your five people, waiting their turn, waiting to be released to you to tell you the meaning of it all. frozen in immeasurable time, like precipitation suspended in drops ready to release their downpour and wash away the tears, leaving behind the scent of newly-washed life.
one man and the dust of the earth and the breath that started it all. war and victory, lands claimed and lost, triumph and loss and famine and plenty all a part of the introduction from thousands of years ago. faces and names and places and colors and emotions and people, the pieces of the puzzle reducing humanity to a storybook zoom by relentlessly as you lose breath and it all whips around you. until it stops upon your story, and my story, the introduction to the stories that will come beyond.
he was poor
so that he would marry her
and come here and lose the ability to walk
so you would be born
and you would be forced to age beyond your years
so that you would come to be where she was
and she would marry you
so she would be born
in order that she would meet him
and my story would begin
so that i would be born in the midst and despite it all
so that i would be who i wanted to be and not who i was told i should be
so that i would challenge it all and leave it all behind and go far, far away
so i would decide, when the moment should have passed, to stay
and come back just in the nick of time
only to stumble and fall
only to love
and to lose it all
so that i could begin to find.
all a series of arrows and signs, foreshadowings and precipitations, gurgling and tumbling and whirling and smashing into one another in the vortex of it all. overwhelmed and underprepared to understand, these glimpses crush in their mystery and smother in their might while spells and magic lose their power to the mastery that crafts and creates. goosebumps ride waves of cold flesh as it all falls into place and somehow, some way, you and i and he and she and those who have come and will come and will love and lose and laugh and weep and hope are all connected by these tiny moments. by the looks that shake you to the inner core and crevice, that leave you wondering why. melded together unwittingly by the paths and decisions that affect us all, the rumblings below the surface that cannot be seen to the naked eye.
and the earth trembled and shook while you thought today would usher itself in with the normalcy of all the yesterdays. and while you may perish in body and spirit, this is a part of you, your story that lives itself out to be part of the rest of allstory. because in the trembling grandeur of something too complex to unravel, we are shown fragments and tendrils of the weaving. and we find ourselves here, waiting like they are, until the moment is right and all is explained. waiting for the next steps that will be tread, that will leave behind footprints for the rest of them to follow in. | | |
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