Mackenzie Thorpe

WHO?

Mystery

The Truth is a mystery.
That's all it can be.

You are the mystery.

If you know not this,
you have not seen through the illusion.

Silence

On this day of low grey clouds, a blanket of fog over the landscape, my thoughts are of you, wondering what was, is and could have been.

I remember the words that were said between us, their efficacy to destroy in that moment, the bond of our past, present and future that was before us when we first met.

On this day of low grey clouds, a blanket of fog over the landscape, my thoughts are of you, wondering what was, is and could have been.

Those words, have transformed themselves into the silence that is now between us.

I will forever curse that day.

Fall's

fragile pale light
will not last,
in deed the days grow shorter.

Winds strip trees naked,
and while they shiver
the moon watches with its cold blue light.

Black cat held prisoner-
at midnight the latch is raised,
and the prison is empty.

Clouds of slate hide the black hawk
flying out of the north,
spectre of a spell cast centuries ago.

Untitled

How did your beliefs come about?
Through reading exoteric and esoteric works, experiential learning?
Did these ways of knowledge lead you to a perfect, doubt free certainty about reality?

What if those exoteric and esoteric works are completely wrong; based on false assumptions of those who came before you, and what about your experiences through your senses- perceived, conceived and abstracted, are they wrong?

What would be the condition of your existence then?

Who, Why, Where

The child asks not, "Who am I?"
For the child knows the answer.
It is we grownups who ask, "Who am I?"

The child asks not, "Why am I here?"
The child knows the answer.
It is we grownups who ask, "Why am I here?"

The child asks not, "Where am I going?"
The child knows the answer.
It is we grownups who ask, "Where am I going?"

A childs laughter is its answer to us grownups.

L.

You saw your mother murdered when you were young,
and went to live with an aunt who despised you,
so you left that loveless home; fell in love, had a family,
until your husband started beating you every night;
you had to leave.
You lost your children to the bureaucracy, now you were all alone.

And that is how I found you, alone on a crowded street hawking newspapers.
You miss your children terribly, but they will have nothing to do with you,
You yearn to be with someone you could love and who could love you.

Nights find you in a park or hallway exhausted.
Unable to sleep you cry, alone, with no one to wipe your tears or comfort you.

The dawn reminds you of how deeply alone you are.

In your own words, "It's just I know I do not fit in, and knew it when I was a little girl. I just feel it now more because I'm bigger and nothing has changed as far as me not fitting in. I guess I have to keep trying."

She tells me she's sorry when she's not in a good mood, I tell her she's beautiful and love her very much.

So we sit on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and I hold her close to me while we talk for hours.