The years they pass so quickly now
The wheel turns, the seasons change
The Wheel of Fate spins round and round
I've learned to accept it's motion
To go with the flow
To play the cards I've been dealt
But I have to be honest ... the game is rigged
And I kinda miss tilting at windmills
Eight years
Eight cycles
It feels like a lifetime
They say time heals all things
The wheel turns, the seasons change
Yet it always comes back to October
The pain itself has faded
But the dreams remain broken
Memories are sweet
but they make a poor compass
The wheel turns, the seasons change
The Wheel of Fate spins round and round
I've learned to accept it's motion
To go with the flow
To play the cards I've been dealt
But I have to be honest ... the game is rigged
And I kinda miss tilting at windmills
Eight years
Eight cycles
It feels like a lifetime
They say time heals all things
The wheel turns, the seasons change
Yet it always comes back to October
The pain itself has faded
But the dreams remain broken
Memories are sweet
but they make a poor compass
Words have been tumbling around inside of me begging for release. I sat down thinking to write a memorial for my Magic Man, but these are the words that came out. Sometimes writing is like that for me. The words demand their own expression. I'm not even sure if I understand it exactly, so if it seems obscure to you just chalk it up to emotional release. If you'd to try your hand at virtual shrink you are welcome to share your interpretation. You may even see something in it that I haven't thought of.
Have you ever noticed how the number 8 looks like the symbol for infinity?
ReplyDeleteKeep writing when you feel moved to do so. It's the release and the expression that matter most. Healing lives there. (I think.)
I wish I could say something useful or profound, but, alas cannot.
ReplyDeleteMy writing has rarely anything to do with what I think consciously. As though my fingers know my innermost feelings far better than I do.
The enigmatic, masked blogger
You've definitely moved me. I'm sad for your time stolen by addiction stuff, and that I recognize. I've loved several, and to keep them in your life means yielding control... sometimes it's too high a price.
ReplyDeleteI hope the words are healing, even if they aren't what you expected to pour from your fingers.
Dear Sally,
ReplyDeleteI would not even attempt to make my own interpretation of this heartfelt and transparent posting.
All I would say is that your writing, your verbalisation, one would hope, is a cathartic and a therapeutic positive resource.
May the magic of your words bring comfort and awareness that beats within your soul.
With great respect and kindness, Gary.
some things are never right after a wrong...
ReplyDeletei feel your pain...
Sally:
ReplyDeleteI firmly believe that actually writing about what one feels is therapeutic. Words can help; they have helped me through heartbreak, pain and depression. October is my black month, too.
I hope that you felt a little better after writing this post. You're right, "the game is rigged".
i wish all good things to you.
Words have always been my comfort zone, the place I go to escape the rough and tumble world and find meaning and peace.
ReplyDeleteGlad to see you do the same. Sending you writerly happies.
You know Sally, when we share our feelings, openly and honestly, we just never know who we may be helping. Your writing here is so powerful it will deeply touch anyone who is fortunate enough to read it. Grief is an organic process, it never leaves us but it does change.
ReplyDeleteYou refer to missing tilting at windmills: If you think of the grief cycle as the sails on the windmill, sometimes it rages as though a gale is blowing; sometimes it is just there in the background like a gentle breeze; and there are times, as the years pass, that the sails stand still, and we have moments when the grief has left us. But like the windmill, it starts up again, triggered by a small breeze until it turns at full pace again.
I am a recovered addict and spend a huge amount of time with those who still suffer and I attend many funerals. It is so sad but you know Sally, the saddest thing is the grieving families who have been powerless in fighting the addiction, who can never truly understand what addiction is like, and who ride the rollercoaster of guilt, anger and heartfelt loss.
For whatever reason, I am one of the lucky ones.
Smiles and blessings