The Mystery of Life, Music and Love

As a person with a journalism degree and an inquisitive mind, I can ask questions to the point of annoying people. However, with age comes wisdom and the simple factor of not giving a shit.

Sometimes I wonder about something and then sit back and say, does it really matter? Many times, the answer is no. Just let it be. Don’t over analyze it. Don’t ‘what if’ it to death. Just exist and experience it. Unless it sucks of course, then learn to move out of the way and into a better experience.

I have found, enjoying the moment is so much better than picking something apart. I don’t need to know every detail on the who, what, where and why. I can let the mystery of something remain just that – a mystery. Unless I am writing an article, there is no reason for me to ruin the experience with a million questions. Nope. I can just cherish the time I have left on this earth.

Time. That is a mystery in itself. One of my music idols, Prince, died this week, which you probably heard unless you are living in a cave without WIFI. Well, and if you are, you are probably are not reading this post though. But if you are, then I wonder how long you travel to get to internet… Or if you have WIFI in your cave, how much does that cost? (See, there goes that wandering mind again.)

Anyway, I adored Prince for his insane talent, but also his mystery. He was elusive to the press generally, and that appealed to me. His quiet demeanor was attractive. And of course, as a young teen girl, he was just utterly sexy and glamorous, and I had the biggest crush on him.


His music is the first I really remember and so many memories involve it. I would dance around my room to Little Red Corvette. I would attempt to roller skate gracefully to Raspberry Beret. I kissed a boy to Purple Rain. [Insert a dramatic sigh here.] Oh Prince, you WERE music to me, mysterious and sexy music. I think you may be why purple was and still is my favorite color.

I didn’t know every Prince song or a lot of details about his personal life, and that was ok. It didn’t mean I adored him any less. He just maintained a level of mystery to me. And now, dying at the age of 57, I guess he always will.

His death has made me think though…57 is not really old. Of course when I was a teen dancing to his music, I thought 57 was ancient. But now, not so much. Heck, I’m 44, so I am just around the corner, and who knows when my time will be up. Today, next week, 40 years from now? Perhaps it is best not to know that answer, but to live to our fullest each day.

Each day is a gift to experience, not solve, just like Frank Herbert said. So put aside your anger, regret and ‘what ifs’ and just BE, FEEL and EXPERIENCE life while you have it. There is no need to solve every mystery, but simply relish what it can offer you in the time you have left.

And with that, I will leave you with one of my favorite Prince songs, that says exactly how I felt about him as an artist: Nothing Compares to You. May you rest in peace.




Lost Love-Dying Heart

Leaves floated like feathers, slowly sinking to the sandy ground like hope in a failing heart. The wind whispered a silky voice, taunting and teasing over the pastor’s murmur. Branches lifelessly hung, heavy with a sea of frozen tears. Grave markers stood proudly proclaiming their victory as a cold and empty face could only see one. Only one name screamed from the granite. Only one name ripped through the bleeding soul whose heart was so destroyed, it may as well be shattered glass washing away in the nearby tide. Voices sounded distant like they were inside of a conch shell on the empty shore. Their words were incoherent rumblings to her deaf ears. Whatever gibberish poured from their grey lips mattered not. The sea was calling, demanding she return to yesterday’s memory. Clutching a cold endless band, she stumbled to the welcoming frigid water. Trembling hands shook off today, this dreadful day. Tomorrow there would be no nightmares for she would be in her soul mate’s arms again.

Feet sinking into sand

Drowning heart fills with tears

Peace comes in waves


Posted for D’verse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday.

Prompt was Khalil Gibran’s quote: “Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.”


This is a sequel to a prose poem I wrote for Writing 201. Read that one and you will understand the depth of this character’s love and passion for her soul mate. It explains her state after such a great loss.

Finding Love, Peace

He seeps into my soul like air,
Becoming necessary for life.
His touch washes away my cares,
Erasing the stress and strife.

The bond that we have grows,
Increasing every moment we spend.
His gentleness supports my lows,
Making me strong again.

Where was I before he found me?
Feeling sad and on my own.
With him at my side, I feel free,
Venturing safely into the unknown.

I wish that I’d known him before
Aging broke down my soul.
But isn’t finding more,
Realizing the ultimate goal?

My past would have been altered
Having him at my side.
The joy of being heard
Ending all the tears that I cried.

I would not have felt alone.
Living a life in the right.
But by grace I can atone
Following Him into the light.

Grandpa’s death & what he taught me

I was at my grandfather’s house when he died. Right there, in the same house, he died while I played. It seems heartless that I was outside playing in a car while he took his last breaths. I was young though, and didn’t understand death then.

I can’t recall my exact age but I know the time period it happened, so I had to be between 9 and 11 years old. We didn’t see my paternal grandfather regularly due to distance but I remember him fondly. I loved going to his house. It was full of adventure. There was a creepy basement that groaned and had mystery. The shed and garden out back were perfect for playing out the stories in my head. He ALWAYS had candy on his table. Oh, and he had a party-line phone that allowed me to hear strangers talk. I cannot tell you how many times I would giggle and make comments to the poor people trying to have a conversation. (It is no wonder that type of service is no longer available. I must have been annoying.) I think the biggest fact I remember about grandpa was that he taught me to make a decision. Whenever he would ask me if I wanted something (like food or to go somewhere), I had to say yes or no. If I dared to say, “I don’t care,” he would reply with “Well, I don’t care either.” And, after that, whatever he offered was gone and not offered again until a later visit.

I recall sitting in the car pretending I could drive, when my uncle climbed in to be my passenger. He told me grandpa had died. I kept driving because I didn’t understand completely. I knew everyone was acting weird though and it wasn’t good, but I could not understand that grandpa was no more…until I went into the house.

My mom was crying. Dad looked lost and scared. My uncle was walking me towards grandpa’s room. The air smelled stale and old. All his medicine covered the dresser. And there laid grandpa, not moving. I looked around and everyone was staring at me with such sad eyes. I think it was then that I realized I would no longer have a grandpa. I would no longer be able to sneak onto his party-line phone and take candy from his dish. I would not have anyone forcing me make decisions, making me speak up for what I wanted. He was gone and all I could do was stand there and accept it.

~~~ In response to the daily prompt of Finite Creatures. “At what age did you realize you were not immortal? How did you react to that discovery?”