Fragmentations

       Waking up alongside fragments of past events, even though the dreams are not exactly what I would call memories, more so of coming events, posts on social media have tended to be of nostalgic images of successes or nuances of what life had to offer at those lines in the proverbial sands.
        In essence one eye is closed while the contrivance neglects those present situations that can also cast the shadows of timelessness.  Not in any way am I claiming here that I exist on those exhalations that come with accomplishments as they happen, which is really hard to do, considering as soon as the reflections start persuading or clouding the inertia behind conceiving, those moments are gone.
        New sets of challenges always seem to boggle large parts of the populations into trying to persuade others to see their skill sets of perception, so they can be somewhat the fifteen minutes of their own demise.  Too many chiefs and not enough Indians left to pick up the pieces from the hill of Little Big Horn, I surmise.
        I have been, by my own persuasion, one of those Indians hoping to tie up the loose ends, letting others gather the creative moments and joys surrounding Glorious moments such as they come in contact with every so often.  I'm sure in retrospect I don't do these inquires because I too would enjoy the gifts associated with such tumultuous events, but rather I have felt the obligations to record, even though I am bias in my accounts also, but in truth, there is a sense of urgency and responsibility not being tied in some way to the event itself, but as an socially incoherent innocent bystander.
         I know it is easier to stand, one leg or two, on our own individual laurels, but in times of squabbles, having the capacity, like my brother Mike, to stay above the fray, holding out that sincere hand, which ever one it might be, at the moment of inception, and saying to the masses, just take your soliloquies up on the mountain and talk to that imaginary hand, giving some sort of forethought to unmasking your egos and rest your souls for moments at a time.  Then maybe, just maybe, your futures will be one ascertained by some truth, honor, justice and wisdom, balanced by the art of humility.
        Go forth my sons and daughters of anarchy, in those moments of uncertainy, where, I suppose you long to be in someone's warm and tender loving arms and give way to the infinite wisdom of the Universe unfolding just the way it was meant to unfold, with or without your personal blessings.