When the fog hangs thick it's difficult to make out what's going on around me. Best to just sit still and wait. Wait for the noise to subside. Wait for the chills to fade. These days, The Fog is only ever a temporary setback. An intermission, a moment between Moments. Almost a blessing. Crawl into The Pod TM, focus on breathing, remember the future, now that I've forgotten to forget forgetting. Everything is coming, I know that now, whether it comes as Reality, Fantasy or simply as Hope - it's coming regardless, and I've walked blind and tripped trippity trip too often in The Past, so what's to do but sit peaceful in The Fog and wait for the path to show itself.
I write a ballad, a Love Song Dedication, a ballad of Two Ghosts, and I don't even wonder what they would say if they heard it. I just smile at the knowledge that The Past is a quaint holiday destination, but my ambition lies dead ahead. The song is a gentle goodbye, a better way to walk into Tomorrow. That's enough to bury the dead, isn't it? With soft water colours, a picture they will never know I painted of them, but which I will hang proud from my heart now that I'm finally ready to play - to face the self imposed intimidation of being surrounded for so long by people I put on pedestals, people, that through no fault of their own, held me back, frightened me into thinking I had nothing to give. But I have my own Soul to give, and that's the one thing I've always stood by, though perhaps, have never lived up to. So...Matty James, I think, I'll play under the name Matty James. It's two sides of me, the known and the unknown, and the blanket of enigmatic contradiction feels warm around my shoulders. I think it fits. Ego or no.
Her and I - we write, as it's all we have, but it's all we've ever had, so that fits too. And time bends and stretches in circles and oblongs and I slide into it now, comfortable, clear...and well...I'm restless as Hell, but that energy sure beats Anger. Or worse, Shame. Besides - nothing beats this Hard Fought Freedom. And I am reborn, as is my sister, as are my friends, reborn from all those bloody tears and yesterdays. Young again, naive again, built of dreams yet holding the power to create reality in a single word.
I can do this.
We can all do this.