Quarantine thoughts

 Golden rays float through the sky. ' The day is over.  Night is just beginning.  Water crashes on the shore below.  The clouds reflecting in the shallows as if they are painted on the surface.  The river is a combination of currents running in a million directions.  A color palate that is complete perfection. Destroyed by the chaos of its movements.  I see the sky and its floating castles and wish I was there.  Looking down and watching the earth below  Free from its borders  A bystander to its dysfunction  As is the glowing mountain in the distance. The crumbling rock doesn't understand the wars on the land around it. Its only thought is of the wind that crashes against it.  Slowly wearing down the rocks that make up the mighty peaks. 

Trying to find answers.  I look for a dictionary of my life.  Definitions are logical.    A world where everything has a plot line.  Predestined.  Already set in stone.   Everything is always fine.  What's wrong and what's right is defined.  I get the feeling that maybe my memories are fictional because nothing makes sense.  That what I think I know is actually a story written by some far-off writer that pulls the strings for my decisions. 

 Puzzles are an anomaly. Each tiny part fits to another.  No matter how differently they are shaped.  The pieces find each other to make one large picture.  You can't do much with one part. But when you have all the pieces together, you finally begin to understand.  This had to happen. 

Dams. What do you think of when you hear the word? Do you think of rushing water?  White foam bubbling on the surface of the river?  Or perhaps you don't think of the water. But the cement wall itself. It towers over the waters. Keeping them back. Powerful wheels.  Unseen.  Channeling the water into the sister lake. Well, I feel like both.  I am the dam and the angry river. The foamy water and the cement wall that holds it back.  I feel my thoughts as they dash against the walls of my mind. Unable to escape they are tumbled together.  Causing the roar of confusion that lives in the space between my ears. I sit in the river of my mind.  Watching the bubbles and foam seep around me. Where can I go? 

Have you ever seen a siren?  Not the "mermaid" but the lightbulb.  You see them on the sides of buildings. Inside rooms.  They aren't alarmed by passive voices.  Even if you shout... You will never trigger the inner workings of the tiny box. Sirens are triggered by heat and smoke.  When the flames start, and the smoke rises to the ceiling. The lights flash and the piercing metal scream echoes through the air.  They exist as the plan.  A warning that waits for the smoke. Lately I've felt as a siren waiting on the wall for the flames.  Anticipating the end. Waiting for something, anything to happen. Whether that be good or bad. I see myself waiting for the flames. Trying to detect the smoke before it reaches me.  Sometimes its puts your heart at ease when you can see the fire. Rather than waiting in anticipation for someone to drop a match.  Hey everyone, I know its been a second where I've been gone, but I am glad to be back and writing. I have recently completed m