many ways
lead to Rome
can we call
IT home
paths, streets
alleys, highways
by foot or car
by train or plane
or my way
all the ways
happy and gay
sometimes
wired
windows closed
then open
the heart
your heart
lines are written
exchanged
numbers
channeled
dialed
a call
to your heart
adrenalin
the source of power
fueling the brain
to sustain
the heart
symbol of love
love the essence
of our finding
lots of words
still have to be spoken
a base established
grounds conquered
on the way
no rest
the quest
eternal love
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
HM Day 101010
Spread the LOVE and make the world a better place, be generous to children
www.virginmoneygiving.com/stephan2010
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
www.virginmoneygiving.com/stephan2010
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
REMEMBER
Dad?
Yeah my darling.
Another bedtime story pleassssssse.
It’s already late sweet thing and we’ve got an early day tomorrow.
But it’s only 6.15pm daddy, pleasssssssse
OK angel but no interruptions this time.
I promise.
On a cold snowy winter’s day in December Anika is asking her mother
whether Father Christmas is real and not just made up by adults to keep
children quiet.
Her mother asks what do you mean by keeping children
quiet?
Mom, you know, often when I do things you don’t like, you tell me to stop
or otherwise you tell Father Christmas about it and he might not come
around this time.
Anika is nine years old living with her parents and older brother in a wooden house near a big forest.
Its cold outside, snow is blanketing the forest like a fluffy white duvet.
Dad what is blanketing? I don’t know the meaning and this is no interruption.
Lilly, darling, blanketing comes from the word blanket which you know, so
blanketing means covering, its like when you put a blanket on your legs
because you are cold, it also means that you are covering your legs.
Thanx Dad.
Great, let me continue.
Well, Anika you know what I once told you about Father Christmas with
his long white beard and soft red velvet coat. He lives way up north where
the days are dark but the love and fire in the hearts of the people light up their days. All year round they listen to the thoughts and desires of the children in order to deliver all the beautiful presents for Christmas.
Children that have been naughty throughout the year might not be able to
receive any presents.
Anika?
Mom?
Are you still listening?
I do.
Ok, and you know as well that it is not the material side of how many
presents you get, it is love and appreciation that is shown by all presents
you get no matter how small or big.
I know Mummy but today at school all the girls and boys in the classroom
said that I was a baby still to believe in Father Christmas who does not exist at all.
So, why would you suddenly listen to other people and not to your own
feelings?????
I don’t know Mummy, I am just very confused.
You just have to believe Anika and I believe it is bedtime now.
Come it’s late, brush your teeth and then quickly to bed with you.
Anika went to bed that night so tired that she fell asleep before her mother came to switch off the light.
Her mind was still busy re-thinking thoughts while suddenly Anika opened
her eyes, the entire room was lit up in a bright warm light.
A knock at the window, Anika gets up still half asleep opens the white frozen window to see what’s outside. She always was very curious.
Father Christmas is outside the window giving Anika a hand to climb through
the window into his glistening white slay with eight beautiful reindeer in
front. Anika couldn’t believe what was happening.
Anika asks Father Christmas whether this is real?
He just said, you are here with me talking to me, so it has to be.
They both walk through the snow, Anika in her long white night dress,
heading for the slay. Seated and wrapped in a huge white soft warm
comfortable throw Father Christmas gives a sign to his beautifully strong
reindeer for take off.
With a swift coordinated move all of them are air-born leaving house and
forest behind moving into a star studded blue sky.
The bells decorating the reindeer are playing a very familiar Christmas song, Anika tries to think but can’t remember the name of the song.
Father Christmas puts an arm around Anika to hold her close whispering
not to think too much and telling her to call him Santa.
Santa, where are we going?
I take you to a place where the days are dark but the love and fire in the
hearts of the people light up the days.
Is this the place my Mummy told me about?
Yes it is.
They come to a place where the flowers, plants, trees and animals are
colourful and speak to each other.
Santa is taking Anika to a house that seems small leading to a room that is
big, bigger than big.
What is this, Santa?
This is the room with all the wishes and presents for the children on earth.
It is an always expanding room.
Anika wishes to be home again with her family.
She wakes up in the morning, the window still open and walks into the
kitchen.
She looks at her mom and says I BELIEVE.
Mummy?
Yes Lilly.
Do you miss Dad ?
Yes darling, very very much.
I miss Daddy too and his stories but I don’t want to go now.
Why?
I don’t want to remember.
Lilly, my angel, I know it is not easy but it would be wrong to forget. We
always have to remember and remind the people of the cruelty and sadness
it has caused.
Ok Mummy.
Let’s go then, we don’t want to be late for the service.
Sept. 11, 2007
Do you remember?
Yeah my darling.
Another bedtime story pleassssssse.
It’s already late sweet thing and we’ve got an early day tomorrow.
But it’s only 6.15pm daddy, pleasssssssse
OK angel but no interruptions this time.
I promise.
On a cold snowy winter’s day in December Anika is asking her mother
whether Father Christmas is real and not just made up by adults to keep
children quiet.
Her mother asks what do you mean by keeping children
quiet?
Mom, you know, often when I do things you don’t like, you tell me to stop
or otherwise you tell Father Christmas about it and he might not come
around this time.
Anika is nine years old living with her parents and older brother in a wooden house near a big forest.
Its cold outside, snow is blanketing the forest like a fluffy white duvet.
Dad what is blanketing? I don’t know the meaning and this is no interruption.
Lilly, darling, blanketing comes from the word blanket which you know, so
blanketing means covering, its like when you put a blanket on your legs
because you are cold, it also means that you are covering your legs.
Thanx Dad.
Great, let me continue.
Well, Anika you know what I once told you about Father Christmas with
his long white beard and soft red velvet coat. He lives way up north where
the days are dark but the love and fire in the hearts of the people light up their days. All year round they listen to the thoughts and desires of the children in order to deliver all the beautiful presents for Christmas.
Children that have been naughty throughout the year might not be able to
receive any presents.
Anika?
Mom?
Are you still listening?
I do.
Ok, and you know as well that it is not the material side of how many
presents you get, it is love and appreciation that is shown by all presents
you get no matter how small or big.
I know Mummy but today at school all the girls and boys in the classroom
said that I was a baby still to believe in Father Christmas who does not exist at all.
So, why would you suddenly listen to other people and not to your own
feelings?????
I don’t know Mummy, I am just very confused.
You just have to believe Anika and I believe it is bedtime now.
Come it’s late, brush your teeth and then quickly to bed with you.
Anika went to bed that night so tired that she fell asleep before her mother came to switch off the light.
Her mind was still busy re-thinking thoughts while suddenly Anika opened
her eyes, the entire room was lit up in a bright warm light.
A knock at the window, Anika gets up still half asleep opens the white frozen window to see what’s outside. She always was very curious.
Father Christmas is outside the window giving Anika a hand to climb through
the window into his glistening white slay with eight beautiful reindeer in
front. Anika couldn’t believe what was happening.
Anika asks Father Christmas whether this is real?
He just said, you are here with me talking to me, so it has to be.
They both walk through the snow, Anika in her long white night dress,
heading for the slay. Seated and wrapped in a huge white soft warm
comfortable throw Father Christmas gives a sign to his beautifully strong
reindeer for take off.
With a swift coordinated move all of them are air-born leaving house and
forest behind moving into a star studded blue sky.
The bells decorating the reindeer are playing a very familiar Christmas song, Anika tries to think but can’t remember the name of the song.
Father Christmas puts an arm around Anika to hold her close whispering
not to think too much and telling her to call him Santa.
Santa, where are we going?
I take you to a place where the days are dark but the love and fire in the
hearts of the people light up the days.
Is this the place my Mummy told me about?
Yes it is.
They come to a place where the flowers, plants, trees and animals are
colourful and speak to each other.
Santa is taking Anika to a house that seems small leading to a room that is
big, bigger than big.
What is this, Santa?
This is the room with all the wishes and presents for the children on earth.
It is an always expanding room.
Anika wishes to be home again with her family.
She wakes up in the morning, the window still open and walks into the
kitchen.
She looks at her mom and says I BELIEVE.
Mummy?
Yes Lilly.
Do you miss Dad ?
Yes darling, very very much.
I miss Daddy too and his stories but I don’t want to go now.
Why?
I don’t want to remember.
Lilly, my angel, I know it is not easy but it would be wrong to forget. We
always have to remember and remind the people of the cruelty and sadness
it has caused.
Ok Mummy.
Let’s go then, we don’t want to be late for the service.
Sept. 11, 2007
Do you remember?
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Royal Parks Half Marathon 2010
Dearest all
please do not forget to sponsor my run on 10 October 2010 logging onto www.virginmoneygiving.com/stephan2010 to raise funds for Right To Play.
Thank you so very very much.............xxxxxxxxx
please do not forget to sponsor my run on 10 October 2010 logging onto www.virginmoneygiving.com/stephan2010 to raise funds for Right To Play.
Thank you so very very much.............xxxxxxxxx
PRESENCE
presence
naughty, delirious, cruel and beautiful
future
fancy, fragile, strong and sensual
illusion
magic, mystery and ghost
vision
passion, promise and almost
eternity
complete love
naughty, delirious, cruel and beautiful
future
fancy, fragile, strong and sensual
illusion
magic, mystery and ghost
vision
passion, promise and almost
eternity
complete love
SPARKLE
Snow, minus five degrees, a clear view outside her window on the 47th floor.
It is 7pm.
The city seems to be asleep under a blanket of fresh fallen ice crystals.
An hour to go to a star studded award gala down at Picture Theatre to be
named amongst the most glamorous show and business people of the globe.
Samantha, CEO of the biggest oil company in the world, still undecided
what to wear for the event calls in her assistant Louise to lay down several dresses she had chosen earlier.
Pink, red, blue, burgundy, black, emerald are the colours that enter her eyes encouraging reactions she thought never would happen.
Adrenaline creating fireworks of emotions, feelings that lead to only one decision – BLACK.
The colour of the evening, a dress made to kill beautifully caressing her
body leaving only one small accessory – JEWELLERY.
Samantha asks herself whether she is in need of earrings, necklaces, rings
or bracelets.
Again she calls Louise to discuss, as so often in the past whether a piece of jewellery would enhance her overwhelming appearance.
Louise opens several leather boxes to unveil the most amazing neckpieces
Samantha has collected throughout the years. All are gifts from Presidents,
Kings and former husbands worth millions of dollars.
Samantha’s high powered job ensures not only that countries are supplied
with fuel to keep their existence alive but also to deliver the best prices for gas to consumers allowing mobility of work forces around the planet.
Contracts between the West and East are essential; diplomacy and integrity
are the ingredients of her successful career.
The air and ice become thinner and thinner but she gracefully walks on her
path to cheerful investors and stockholders presenting billion dollar profits quarter after quarter.
Flawless and hard are not only attributes that describe Samantha but also
diamonds, her favourite stones choosing a 56.5 ct diamond platinum necklace
given to her by a president of a nation smaller than New York City.
Louise approves the choice her boss made asking Samantha after having
read an article about the movie ‘Blood Diamond’, whether she knows where
her diamonds come from.
Samantha turns around explaining that she had received them from the head
of state for having successfully negotiated a contract between her company
and this small but oil rich nation on the African WestCoast.
Samantha carefully closes the clasp of the matching bracelet before slinding into her black mink jacket.
On street level her driver struggles to park the black limousine. Snowy roads limit easy car movement. Finally in time he swings the door open for
Samantha to take a seat at the back of the car.
Samantha kindly greets Carl while entering the car.
“Good evening M’am”, Carl closes the door swiftly.
The smooth handling of the car ensures a safe journey to the event.
Carl opens the communicator, “M’am, your shining beauty always takes my
breath away; especially tonite you look pretty amazing if I may say so. Your diamonds sparkle in the glistening moon light – fabulous.”
“Thank you very much Carl, you are always so generous.”
“Thank you. We’ll arrive in five minutes.”
“Thank you Carl” Samantha replies.
Suddenly a break in thought.
War, death, blood, oil, diamonds, casualties, fortunes,
genocide………..thoughts she never knew existed; is her mind playing tricks
on her?
Louise mentioned blood diamonds – are mine? Why this emerging dilemma.
What is happening to me? Samantha asking herself.
Gaining back her confidence,
We never question our pork – did miss piggy die an ethical death – we just
spice and eat it;
We never question our government – how do you spend our taxes, do you
support war lords or engage in genocide operations – we just pay to be on
the safe side;
Seeing through the clouds of doubt she has to remind herself after having
had this conversation several times that a diamond is a diamond. It is unique in its appearance and beauty.
The car stops, the door opens to a red carpet. Flashlight all over Samantha
walks into the lime light of her life…
…
How spicy is your pork chop?
It is 7pm.
The city seems to be asleep under a blanket of fresh fallen ice crystals.
An hour to go to a star studded award gala down at Picture Theatre to be
named amongst the most glamorous show and business people of the globe.
Samantha, CEO of the biggest oil company in the world, still undecided
what to wear for the event calls in her assistant Louise to lay down several dresses she had chosen earlier.
Pink, red, blue, burgundy, black, emerald are the colours that enter her eyes encouraging reactions she thought never would happen.
Adrenaline creating fireworks of emotions, feelings that lead to only one decision – BLACK.
The colour of the evening, a dress made to kill beautifully caressing her
body leaving only one small accessory – JEWELLERY.
Samantha asks herself whether she is in need of earrings, necklaces, rings
or bracelets.
Again she calls Louise to discuss, as so often in the past whether a piece of jewellery would enhance her overwhelming appearance.
Louise opens several leather boxes to unveil the most amazing neckpieces
Samantha has collected throughout the years. All are gifts from Presidents,
Kings and former husbands worth millions of dollars.
Samantha’s high powered job ensures not only that countries are supplied
with fuel to keep their existence alive but also to deliver the best prices for gas to consumers allowing mobility of work forces around the planet.
Contracts between the West and East are essential; diplomacy and integrity
are the ingredients of her successful career.
The air and ice become thinner and thinner but she gracefully walks on her
path to cheerful investors and stockholders presenting billion dollar profits quarter after quarter.
Flawless and hard are not only attributes that describe Samantha but also
diamonds, her favourite stones choosing a 56.5 ct diamond platinum necklace
given to her by a president of a nation smaller than New York City.
Louise approves the choice her boss made asking Samantha after having
read an article about the movie ‘Blood Diamond’, whether she knows where
her diamonds come from.
Samantha turns around explaining that she had received them from the head
of state for having successfully negotiated a contract between her company
and this small but oil rich nation on the African WestCoast.
Samantha carefully closes the clasp of the matching bracelet before slinding into her black mink jacket.
On street level her driver struggles to park the black limousine. Snowy roads limit easy car movement. Finally in time he swings the door open for
Samantha to take a seat at the back of the car.
Samantha kindly greets Carl while entering the car.
“Good evening M’am”, Carl closes the door swiftly.
The smooth handling of the car ensures a safe journey to the event.
Carl opens the communicator, “M’am, your shining beauty always takes my
breath away; especially tonite you look pretty amazing if I may say so. Your diamonds sparkle in the glistening moon light – fabulous.”
“Thank you very much Carl, you are always so generous.”
“Thank you. We’ll arrive in five minutes.”
“Thank you Carl” Samantha replies.
Suddenly a break in thought.
War, death, blood, oil, diamonds, casualties, fortunes,
genocide………..thoughts she never knew existed; is her mind playing tricks
on her?
Louise mentioned blood diamonds – are mine? Why this emerging dilemma.
What is happening to me? Samantha asking herself.
Gaining back her confidence,
We never question our pork – did miss piggy die an ethical death – we just
spice and eat it;
We never question our government – how do you spend our taxes, do you
support war lords or engage in genocide operations – we just pay to be on
the safe side;
Seeing through the clouds of doubt she has to remind herself after having
had this conversation several times that a diamond is a diamond. It is unique in its appearance and beauty.
The car stops, the door opens to a red carpet. Flashlight all over Samantha
walks into the lime light of her life…
…
How spicy is your pork chop?
MORNING
morning has broken
did it break
fall apart
from time to time
don’t we all
fall apart
through life’s ups
and downs
through sorrow and
pain
through joy and
happiness
will it be bliss
mornings as fresh as a summerbreeze
will we sneeze
as virgin as a raindrop
will we crop
blue skies
no ties
wonderful
a wonderful
world
did it break
fall apart
from time to time
don’t we all
fall apart
through life’s ups
and downs
through sorrow and
pain
through joy and
happiness
will it be bliss
mornings as fresh as a summerbreeze
will we sneeze
as virgin as a raindrop
will we crop
blue skies
no ties
wonderful
a wonderful
world
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
LIFE
the ribbon of life
beauty, elegance
thriving to give our very best
the quest
undermined by the brutality
of love
tender, sweet, intimate
like the sunrise
before the fall
into the rabbit hole
how deep does it go
society, security a net
lethal it can be
rise, shine
fight and conquer
never forget
the quest
is the bet.
beauty, elegance
thriving to give our very best
the quest
undermined by the brutality
of love
tender, sweet, intimate
like the sunrise
before the fall
into the rabbit hole
how deep does it go
society, security a net
lethal it can be
rise, shine
fight and conquer
never forget
the quest
is the bet.
Friday, 17 September 2010
In the meantime
While I am still looking for God and havent found the answer yet please support my Royal Parks Half Marathon raising funds for Right To Play. Have a look at their website www.righttoplay.com and sponsor my run at www.virginmoneygiving.com/stephan 2010
Thank you so much for your generosity, it is absolutely appreciated.
Stephan
xxx
Thank you so much for your generosity, it is absolutely appreciated.
Stephan
xxx
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Pope in London
The Pope is due to arrive in the UK..............is this a time to celebrate or a time for wooden crosses erected along the roadsides?!?!?
Most importantly I like to ask a question for which I hope to receive loads of answers of all faiths.........
'WHERE WILL I FIND GOD?
WHERE WILL I FIND ALLAH?'
awaiting your views..........
Stephan xxx
Most importantly I like to ask a question for which I hope to receive loads of answers of all faiths.........
'WHERE WILL I FIND GOD?
WHERE WILL I FIND ALLAH?'
awaiting your views..........
Stephan xxx
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
Sunset
In a world where pleasure starts with pain Mrs G has lived a life extraordinaire. Grown up in a village on a river in a remote countryside being part of a family of seven Mrs G's childhood was torn apart by the Second World war raging from 1939 to 1945.
Most of the big cities in the Western world have seen damages not only to their exterior but also to their livelihoods and souls.
Lives were ruined but hopes had been high for a new beginning. Rebuilding villages, towns, cities and even nations had become the primary task for the population left consisting of women, children and a few men who had survived the atrocities of war.
The river with numerous fishing boats seeking trade not only under but also above water kept the village Mrs G calls her home alive.
Small wooden boats with their hooks, anchors, nets and oars providing food from the nearby plants are keeping the population afloat.
The years go by forming a more quiet and regulated life for the villagers returning to normal life building businesses and homes for everyone.
During a summer where the heat was hot and life was gay Mrs G marries her primary school sweetheart. Church bells rang, time was high and flowers were plenty Mrs G had followed as so many in her community the only way life dictated. Marriage and sole devotion to the man of her destiny marked a summer that changed her life forever.
Her childhood sweetheart, a hard working bricks and mortar labourer building houses for the villages has become the centre of her life. Years went by leaving her at home caring for her children and husband, a universe to small to escape.
Summers spring and fall into winters where darkness was dominated most of the days. Engulfed by daily tasks hours are running through Mrs G's fingers gravitating towards the centre of her universe more and more almost merging but loosing her being.
Mrs G has created her golden cage housing she never thought being an option.
Nurtured, fed and kept alive by her childhood sweetheart Mrs G is looking for an identity she has lost becoming a slave only serving an institution society has put upon her. Escape seems impossible but the more necessary.
All directions are hers to choose from;
North
South
West
East
The sun goes up and down
paper days need to mark the occasion.
Past activities go by her third eye spotting light in the darkness. She turns around in a moment she did not plan for, a moment that brightens her life looking at a table its treasures almost forgotten.
Mrs G lifts the top to discover the past, the good old times staring at her waiting to be picked up again.
Pleasurable activities she seemed lost but had come to life delivering the space Mrs G was looking for. Universal space everyone occupied but her, although nobody ever took it away, her space.
Gleeful and happy Mrs G started over, a place where she found her long lost happiness without compromising the life she was living in a golden cage that was loosing its colour more and more, day by day.
The days become shorter with the sun setting earlier, a sign that winter was approaching fast with a societal highlight finding worldwide celebrations each year in December.
Preparations needed to be perfect for a husband and children demanding all her time being the centre of the universe she was living. Every time Mrs G put herself aside to deliver the perfect day organized like clockwork to please others but herself.
It seemed like a burden with pleasures almost bordering sadistic tortures.
Mrs G escapism led to the dramatic events in her life, her knitting and crocheting pleasures mounting into everlasting scares she tried to avaoid but could not prevent from happening. Every stich gave her pleasures away from the pain she crested by exactly doing so.
Finally reaching the fall of her own life Mrs G has to experience a situation she thought she could avoid. Her childhood sweetheart, long life torturer or saviour.
Not knowing that it has been her action or just reaction that has lead to the life she was living.
Severe illness came upon the couple who seemed to be perfect in union.
Mrs G had to fight the final battle exhausting every living cell of her being trying to conquer the life she lived for so long reaching for the shores of freedom.
Freedom she never experienced but knew exited in a world outside her golden cage that slowly disappeared although it never existed, her own worlds creation.
The outside world did not give a damn to say the least not asking or her name to be mentioned didn't even know she existed. Mrs G created all her life a mental framework nobody knew about nor wanted to know.
Finally she realized that she was the creator of her life and no one else. Only Mrs G created the world she thought is possible being a prisoner to her own thought, a construct she fell for, victimizing her own self.
Mrs G gently removes the tears around her weary eyes re-adjusting her glasses. Looking at her husbands big swollen eyes Mrs G caringly smoothens the white linen which clothes his death bed both knowingly waiting for the last breath to be taken.
Early afternoon a life was taken and a new has been born. Mrs G. sadly acknowledges the freedom she feels while the chains of her burden had fallen away.
Freedom that always has been with her.
Within the battle still looms and needs to be fought, a battle only Mrs G can fight.
Mrs G's future is able to give birth to a new thought,
a change within,
without she won't escape her golden cage.
Most of the big cities in the Western world have seen damages not only to their exterior but also to their livelihoods and souls.
Lives were ruined but hopes had been high for a new beginning. Rebuilding villages, towns, cities and even nations had become the primary task for the population left consisting of women, children and a few men who had survived the atrocities of war.
The river with numerous fishing boats seeking trade not only under but also above water kept the village Mrs G calls her home alive.
Small wooden boats with their hooks, anchors, nets and oars providing food from the nearby plants are keeping the population afloat.
The years go by forming a more quiet and regulated life for the villagers returning to normal life building businesses and homes for everyone.
During a summer where the heat was hot and life was gay Mrs G marries her primary school sweetheart. Church bells rang, time was high and flowers were plenty Mrs G had followed as so many in her community the only way life dictated. Marriage and sole devotion to the man of her destiny marked a summer that changed her life forever.
Her childhood sweetheart, a hard working bricks and mortar labourer building houses for the villages has become the centre of her life. Years went by leaving her at home caring for her children and husband, a universe to small to escape.
Summers spring and fall into winters where darkness was dominated most of the days. Engulfed by daily tasks hours are running through Mrs G's fingers gravitating towards the centre of her universe more and more almost merging but loosing her being.
Mrs G has created her golden cage housing she never thought being an option.
Nurtured, fed and kept alive by her childhood sweetheart Mrs G is looking for an identity she has lost becoming a slave only serving an institution society has put upon her. Escape seems impossible but the more necessary.
All directions are hers to choose from;
North
South
West
East
The sun goes up and down
paper days need to mark the occasion.
Past activities go by her third eye spotting light in the darkness. She turns around in a moment she did not plan for, a moment that brightens her life looking at a table its treasures almost forgotten.
Mrs G lifts the top to discover the past, the good old times staring at her waiting to be picked up again.
Pleasurable activities she seemed lost but had come to life delivering the space Mrs G was looking for. Universal space everyone occupied but her, although nobody ever took it away, her space.
Gleeful and happy Mrs G started over, a place where she found her long lost happiness without compromising the life she was living in a golden cage that was loosing its colour more and more, day by day.
The days become shorter with the sun setting earlier, a sign that winter was approaching fast with a societal highlight finding worldwide celebrations each year in December.
Preparations needed to be perfect for a husband and children demanding all her time being the centre of the universe she was living. Every time Mrs G put herself aside to deliver the perfect day organized like clockwork to please others but herself.
It seemed like a burden with pleasures almost bordering sadistic tortures.
Mrs G escapism led to the dramatic events in her life, her knitting and crocheting pleasures mounting into everlasting scares she tried to avaoid but could not prevent from happening. Every stich gave her pleasures away from the pain she crested by exactly doing so.
Finally reaching the fall of her own life Mrs G has to experience a situation she thought she could avoid. Her childhood sweetheart, long life torturer or saviour.
Not knowing that it has been her action or just reaction that has lead to the life she was living.
Severe illness came upon the couple who seemed to be perfect in union.
Mrs G had to fight the final battle exhausting every living cell of her being trying to conquer the life she lived for so long reaching for the shores of freedom.
Freedom she never experienced but knew exited in a world outside her golden cage that slowly disappeared although it never existed, her own worlds creation.
The outside world did not give a damn to say the least not asking or her name to be mentioned didn't even know she existed. Mrs G created all her life a mental framework nobody knew about nor wanted to know.
Finally she realized that she was the creator of her life and no one else. Only Mrs G created the world she thought is possible being a prisoner to her own thought, a construct she fell for, victimizing her own self.
Mrs G gently removes the tears around her weary eyes re-adjusting her glasses. Looking at her husbands big swollen eyes Mrs G caringly smoothens the white linen which clothes his death bed both knowingly waiting for the last breath to be taken.
Early afternoon a life was taken and a new has been born. Mrs G. sadly acknowledges the freedom she feels while the chains of her burden had fallen away.
Freedom that always has been with her.
Within the battle still looms and needs to be fought, a battle only Mrs G can fight.
Mrs G's future is able to give birth to a new thought,
a change within,
without she won't escape her golden cage.
discovering twitter
what a blessing, just discovering twitter after having put a cold shoulder on facebook for the moment. technology is just the best invention so far. enjoy and spread the love.........
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