I walk this earth, like it’s nothing but a big long road. Yes at times it feels like I am walking that road up a hill, it's difficult, tiring and hard to see the road ahead; I barely see beyond my footsteps, feeling like the breath is running out of my weak lungs. At other times, that road becomes a downslope, and I start walking so much faster, sprinting with simplicity and at ease, as my eyes see more than that my mind could possibly capture. I see fields of gold; I see the sun rising after every fall. I can witness a glimpse of the ocean, as I stare deeper trying to distinguish it from the sky at the meeting point of the horizon line.
I scream in silence, shouting within the walls of my brain, hearing the echoes through the bones … I deserve the unconditional happiness I desire, I’m a good man, at least I think I am. But the world responds to me in shadows of darkness. Testing my patience, it desires for my blackness to prevail. I try to resist its temptations. My anger has an urge to escape, the power it can give me is limitless, and it has no boundaries. But I can’t give in. I know everything in this life comes at a price, nothing is achieved without a choice, and no choice is free from the consequences. If I give in I lose my dreams, I lose the goodness in my nature, I lose the ability to see the beauty in the sun rising, or the moon settling between the stars. So I hold my stand firmly, only to find myself sinking deeper into my dreams, I create more lands than I have ever created. I dream harder and harder, I paint them in so many colours and with endless possibilities.
But those who walk this earth join this world against me, they try to warn me, mislead me in fact. Let go of what you think you will find beyond those hills, nothing but deserts of regrets awaits you. But I tell them I can’t fail; I know the world holds so much for me. They say illusions are going to destroy you our friend. So I tell them every dream is an illusion that is turned into words, and every word creates a constitution to a man’s life. And that very constitution becomes a living reality that you see in my smile, and between the look I hold deep within my eyes.
Those you love the most start to take your good nature for granted, forgetting the amount of power you have to contain within you to get you where you are today. The efforts you struggled through to survive another day on the road. The beautiful contradictions you outsmarted whilst they echoed in your thoughts. The world looks at you with vengeance, it says “I told you so, it’s not too late to allow that darkness to fill you with the power you desire to achieve your dreams”. For a moment I listen, my eyes are no longer staring at the skies, now they are looking at the dirt on my shoes. But an angel speaks to me out of nowhere, telling me that no dream can be achieved through darkness, dreams feed on light. So I raise my head again, once again am staring at the skies. I stare at that hill, I see the hardship along this damn long road, I will find what I know exists behind the mountains of rocks. I will not listen to anyone; I can’t be distracted by the world’s failures, by your failures or by my own failures. I respect your concerns, but not necessarily your opinions. This is my life, there is only one possibility, and it is not failure.
She looks me in eye; I see the tears standing on her shores struggling to be contained, finding their way to freedom. Why did you do all this for me she asks? Why did you choose to drink from the cup of pain? Why did you cut through your flesh and skin for this smile?
I crossed that road to be your first, I say.
I want to be the first man to buy you a canvas and a brush to paint my smile as I reach you.
I want to be the first man to buy you a professional camera that you can auto set as we take our first photo together.
I want to be the first man to write your name on the sands of these fields with the bare tips of my finger.
I want to be the first man to scream I love you from the highest point of that mountain.
I want to be the first man to match his lips with yours in passion that no other couple has felt.
I want to be the first man to hold you so tightly and closely to his chest as his arms surround you.
I want to be the first man to give you his T-shirt as a gift to keep you warm at night.
I want to be the first man to share the same strawberry with you in the cold winters.
I want to be the first man you ever watch Notting Hill with from the comfort of your sofa.
I want to be the first man to dance to Sinatra’s strangers in the night in a remote park in the middle of nowhere.
I want to be the first man to argue with you over the most ridiculous of issues, and before we hit our pillow we will make up with the most innocent of kisses.
I want to be the first man to have read you poetry as I drive you to work in the early hour of a Monday morning.
I want to be the first man you share your cup of coffee with, no matter how sweet you like it.
To me the vision of all that was stronger than any sorrow any man has ever known, it’s why that angel always brought me back to my senses, to my dreams, to my reality. But as she holds a confused look between her eyes, trying to figure out am I madly in Love with her, am I lying, or am I insane. I will tell her:
I expect no answer to whether or not I was the first, for I am content, that I know I will be the last man to capture your breath.
Newcastle - 8/3/2012