November Rain

I had a hole in the middle where the lightning went through it
told my friends not to worry
I had a hole in the middle someone's sideshow wouldn't do it
I told my friends not to worry...

“Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.” (Joseph Campbell) - This is what I was trying to remember all this week: the joy inside of me, of us, the joy in which I believe.

I run away from people when I most need them. I bang doors when I want you to keep them open for me, I am the coldest person on Earth when I most need a hug … I want someone to show me a door, a window, something that I could break into pieces … because, you see, there is a time when Silence becomes the same as the loudest sound of the universe. The silence inside yourself, of future. How can you escape that silence? ... I want a whole new beginning.

Stupid Raymond Carver

It's what the kids nowadays call weed. And it drifts like clouds from his lips. He hopes no one comes along tonight, or calls to ask for help. Help is what he's most short on tonight. A storm thrashes outside. Heavy seas with gale winds from the west. The table he sits at is, say, two cubits long and one wide. The darkness in the room teems with insight. Could be he'll write an adventure novel. Or else a children's story. A play for two female characters, one of whom is blind. Cutthroat should be coming into the river. One thing he'll do is learn to tie his own flies. Maybe he should give more money to each of his surviving family members. The ones who already expect a little something in the mail first of each month. Every time they write they tell him they're coming up short. He counts heads on his fingers and finds they're all survivng. So what if he'd rather be remembered in the dreams of strangers? He raises his eyes to the skylights where rain hammers on. After a while -- who knows how long? -- his eyes ask that they be closed. And he closes them. But the rain keeps hammering. Is this a cloudburst? Should he do something? Secure the house in some way? Uncle Bo stayed married to Aunt Ruby for 47 years. Then hanged himself. He opens his eyes again. Nothing adds up. It all adds up. How long will this storm go on?  Late Fragment Raymond Carver   And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth. (http://www.poemhunter.com/raymond-carver/)