For me this post signifies many things: loss, discovery, deletion, pain, expectations, choices, devil-is-in-the-details, denial and ultimately The truth . . . Cryptic, I know and I apologize for my strange and mysterious ways. The following poem has been used for many purposes over the years, based on its various interpretations. Methinks, that's why it's such a great piece of literature. It spoke multitudes to me tonight. If you've read it, read it again. If you haven't, you are in for a real treat. I'll be off in the distance chasing away the endless cumulonimbus clouds again . . .

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler , long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I marked the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

I was given this award a few months ago by Annie, a writer I truly admire (and a dear friend). She gave me the award saying this; "Michael at Smoke & Mirrors because his landscape is beautiful and touching, albeit often sad, and so very real that his words can touch as no others can." I have to apologize for being so damn late. Thank you, WC. Here are the rules for the winners: I'm bestowing this honor on five bloggers that I feel are deserving in so very many ways. They are all wonderful and have added so much colour and creativity to our cyberspatial community.

Spasmically Perfect

Spaz and I go way back to the early days. A comment of hers left me speechless and I haven't stopped visiting her since. If you haven't spent some time at this very special blog you are missing out on some wonderful stories, prose and the thoughts of one incredibly creative woman.

Enreal

Not sure how we linked up initially but I'm so very glad that we did. A visit to this place is simply magical. Her words are not unlike a wonderful session of yoga for the restless mind. Trust me.

Grimm

What can I say about a guy like me that is totally in love with his wife and kids? Grimm is a lighter and much funnier version of yours truly. This is a guy that really deserves more recognition that what he gets. I found Grimm on BlogExplosion a little while back and have been thoroughly entertained since. I am proud and truly honoured to call him a friend.

Poetikat

A blog that makes you laugh, cry and give serious thought to the many serious questions regarding our lives. Kat is a writer/poet that truly inspires me to be just a bit more, creatively speaking. Though she has an avid following I had to give her this award. Please stop by and say hi to Kat.

Smith

Although he's the ultimate blogslacker, he writes very well and has a joyfully sardonic sense of humor. His view on the world is uniquely his own and I love the fact that he can verbally smackdown the most intellectual of assholes with the most succinct use of the English language known to man. Did I say he writes well? Please visit Smith. Someone has to at least tell him he won an award . . .  (yeah, i'm a wisearse) Congrats to all!

If this is your first time visiting here you may want to click on the picture above. On the 'Ghosts' page you will find writing that holds special meaning for me. It's a good indicator as to the overall content of the blog as well. For some reason I blew the page away and just realized it the other day. That said, If this page does nothing for you, better saddle up and head on over to Mantown, another blog I occasionally post on. On vacation this week but posting will be light. I will visit as many cyber-friends as possible as long as it doesn't interfere with my afternoon catnap. {yes, I'm kidding} :mrgreen: Have a great week, peoples . . .

In about three weeks my wife and I will celebrate 25 years of marriage. It just doesn't make sense that I make a whole spectacle of it in one day, seeing we've been together and so incredibly strong for 25 years. These days, I'm truly amazed after reading the 'legals' in the newspaper with these assholes that get married for two weeks and then file for divorce. Damn, it's insane and I'm sorry, sometimes funny. But what the hell were they thinking in the first place? Either way, I'm devoting at least several posts to this incredible woman that understands me in a way no one in the entire world ever will, my wife, Pamela. Yeah, these are going to be romantic and sentimental. It's just the way I am, folks. Here's to the one woman that still makes Mikey tick . . .

You

Here, in my heart In my olde, melacholy soul is the You I've always known It's in my darkest hours that I find the way home from the very light of You; a serene beacon in this most sacred of harbours With my spirit at the end of my tether i cling to you like a rainbow clings to slices of sunlight; this complicated prism of all that's good in my life, the colours of emotion, the extreme comfort in belonging . . . It's there in your heart (I belong) where my peacefully sleeping soul is forever safe deep inside the You I will always know, love always . . .

found this on the Jonathan Carroll website/blog. written by 20th century German poet Rainer Maria von Rilke:: God Speaks to Each of Us God speaks to each of us before we are, Before he's formed us then, in cloudy speech, But only then, he speaks these words to each And silently walks with us from the dark: Driven by your senses, dare To the edge of longing. Grow Like a fire's shadowcasting glare Behind assembled things, so you can spread Their shapes on me as clothes. Don't leave me bare. Let it all happen to you: beauty and dread. Simply go no feeling is too much And only this way can we stay in touch. Near here is the land That they call Life. You'll know when you arrive By how real it is. Give me your hand. - Rainer Maria Rilke

~going to try and get back to a state of blogging equilibrium here this week. Life has been crazy. Thanks to all that have read and commented. Much appreciated. ~m

the echoes of goodbye
cross a yawning chasm of fog and thought
find me sitting in this Darkroom,
the pictures of my life, languid and swirling above me

familiar fingers of blacklight penetrate me,
violating my inner walls of thought,
a fortress once impervious yet fragile, yes, once like me

galaxies of sotto voce secrets, skeletons in my locked closet
seem to drip like candle wax from the hanging pictures
the memories of my sweet by and by
they were prints I lost so damn long ago
souvenirs, as lost as I

this Darkroom embraces its secrets,
never letting go of the subtleties of the ‘why'
some things just simply refuse to let go of me
like the distant echoes of goodbye . . .

A flutter of wings in a world washed grey closing tired eyes slowly slip away a fight against The will learned tolerance to the pain incomprehensible ruin terminal drops of rain the lack of understanding invisible hands of a ticking clock solitary hours moving away shadows lost to the infinite dark a moment of hope will surely find her a millisecond of brilliant white light a midnight angel to soothe her freeing her soul to the black of night . . . {for K}

I've been busy updating my "pages" and doing some sorely needed blog maintenance. The Ghosts and Poetry pages have been updated. I've also posted a short story I wrote 6 years ago. Just click on one of the corresponding tabs above to get there. Thanks to Moe for all her help and guidance when I was absolutely freaking out. She is a dear friend and a most awesome blogger. If you haven't visited her yet (or blogrolled her) you are really missing out. Got some stuff planned in a few days. Please stop back. In the meantime, please browse my "pages". Soon . . .

My father has been on my mind lately for many reasons. Today is his 79th birthday and I'm not sure if he'll be around for the next one. Though he knows little of what I do here, I send this to him with all my heart. I think I was channeling him when I wrote it. I hope that one day soon, he will rest. Happy Birthday, Dad ~mick

Some days, I just feel broken unfixable, disposable and anything but unique, a silhouetted and God forsaken scarecrow alone in a Kansas cornfield filled with purple sunset and orange rain . . .

Some days, the man in the mirror turns out to be me a sad reality for such a sad clown my greasepaint runs upwards in smiles seeing the broken ones, just like me with nowhere to belong, this shipwreck of fools still afloat but drifting longingly towards the rocky shores . . . of home

Today, I just feel broken like I will never be quite right And that's okay, it's the way I am I guess being broken takes some getting used to