The Invisible Man/The Scarecrow

Seen but unseen

Saw but saw through

Noticed but not recognized.

Such is the life of The Invisible Man

A creature who falls into the background

Never resides in the foreground of people’s perception

Because visibility is in the eyes of the beholder

And it’s hard to see what you do not know

And do not wish to know.

Invisibility is only a superpower until you have it.

It’s a power but it is not super.

It is a curse, to walk city ways and street corners

Under bright headlights and skyscrapers

To hike peaks, skate lakes, dive depths

To fail, to falter, to struggle, to tear

To accomplish, to succeed, to achieve, to aspire

And know all too well no one saw any of it

Because your dreams feel foolish to them

And your fears make them uncomfortable

But perhaps most of all

You scare them.

You are a scarecrow, an intimidating shroud

Built to protect but mistaken for an assailant

And they’re even more frightened when you take off the mask

Because the truth is often more terrifying than the lies.

The mask stays on and you go through life a bystander

Rather than an active member

A technical participant

But not one anyone recollects.

Voyages at masquerade parties bring brief relapses of enjoyment

Slides across the dance floor in a banquet hall with granite columns and crystal chandeliers

Dramatic dresses and pompous palettes

But eventually, the night ends and the act is over.

The curtains draw

And everyone returns to their daily lives

Honestly themselves

Leaving the Scarecrow in his thoughts

Knowing, unlike everyone else, his mask must stay on.

People do not just not see The Invisible Man

They do not hear him.

He is not just invisible. He is unheard, unknown.

Invisibility is all-encompassing

And there is no length he can go to escape it

No phrase to break the spell

No test of wills.

What scares them the most is how different he is

And different has never been celebrated, only ostracized.

It is never welcomed or sought out.

It is forewarned.

There is no alteration he can make to himself to change that.

He can be loud or quiet, abrasive or malleable

But who he is at his core

That cannot be changed

And so neither can his reality.

Thousands of people passed and seen by none.

Decades lived and never viewed

A cassette from another era never spun.

Melodies, harmonies and ballads played but never heard

A lonely pianist at the keys but no ballroom audience

Not a one.

If a song is played with no listening ears,

Was it ever played at all?

A novel penned without a reader ever written?

Art is given purpose, message and value by its recipients, not its creator

And so is life.

A life unknown is a life wasted.

The One That Got Away

You were stunning.

I remember the first like it was yesterday

The first glance, the first hair flip, the first strut across the dance floor.

From the very moment, I was mesmerized

Spellbound, all the cliches are true.

Entranced, written into the storybooks and lovesick novels.

A reality in a fairy tale or a fairy tale in a reality?

I was never one to be impressed

My attention is not so easily attracted and harder still to hold onto

But as the first word broke your lips, I heard it.

When you hear the right chord progression

Or the right taste comes across your palette

You don’t just feel it. You sense it.

I’d never been so sure of something in my life.

You were a diamond.

Your laugh was a melody I couldn’t quit

A shot of adrenaline to my day.

You stoked the embers of my being

Made my fire burn like it never had

Like I didn’t know it could.

My light was always passionate

But now it roared with newfound fervor

Burned not red but a deep blue

Lively, energetic and most of all, hopeful.

Your presence alone was a spark.

Your eyes made me seen.

Your ears gave my voice bravado.

Your mind made me known.

But you were never mine.

I never felt I deserved you and so it didn’t bother me.

Being given the time of day felt like a blessing.

I idolized you. I really thought you were perfect.

I never saw aiding you in your studies as a chore.

I viewed it as a responsibility, something I owed you.

Lending my ear to your struggles was just something a good friend would do.

Supporting you wasn’t an obligation.

It was something I wanted to do.

I wanted to see you win

Because I believed you could go further than I would ever make it.

As a child, everyone around me wanted to be Batman.

Everyone wants to be the hero, the protagonist of life.

I always wanted to be Robin, the sidekick

The one who never got the respect or the credit

And never asked for it

The one who lifted others

So they could reach higher.

I was the Beast

Maligned and misunderstood

Ostracized and shunned

Labeled and characterized.

I was The Invisible Man.

Unseen but seen through

A concept more than a person

An NPC more than a character

A masked vigilante rather than a memorable face.

You were my Belle.

The first person in so many years

To not just notice me

But see me.

People don’t understand what a gift that is

To be recognized as you are.

It is one of life’s greatest treasures.

In exchange for that, I was willing to do nearly anything.

As long as it didn’t betray who I was, it was on the table.

I was willing to sacrifice everything for your aspirations.

I poured so much of my energy into you

And saved none for myself.

And then that rodent dumped you

And you shattered like glass

Withdrew from the world.

Your light died.

You wouldn’t accept that all you were was in spite of that thing, not because of it

But over many months, I watched you, my rose, wither away.

You closed the shutters on your windows

You locked the door

And you stopped dancing.

You moved back home to chase that cesspool of a creature

A being that never treated you with a shred of respect or dignity.

I never heard from you again.

For years, I longed for that voice to reverberate in my ears again

For my heart, a dormant volcano, to become active again.

I’ve questioned what I did wrong to lose you.

For a decade, I’ve shamed myself

For letting you crumble

For not being strong enough to lift you up.

”How did you let her get away?”

But the truth is, you weren’t the one who got away.

I was.

It’s taken me so long in life to see my own value

But I know now there isn’t anything I could have done

To lift you above yourself.

You weren’t Batman.

You were a damsel in distress who encouraged said distress.

You had the power to be Batman and Robin

But you stepped in your own way.

You hooked your wagon to people who not only didn’t support you

But sucked the life out of you.

You saw me for me but also didn’t.

You took my dedication, character and loyalty for granted.

You saw my perspective, my selflessness, my humility

And thought it wasn’t enough.

The truth is, I am the Batman of my story. I just didn’t know it.

We all are the heroes of our stories, the protagonists of our journey

Whether we want to be or not.

With great power comes great responsibility

And it’s much easier to shed the responsibility you have to yourself

Than it is to embrace it.

You are as strong, or as weak, as you allow yourself to be.

I saw you as above me

When really, I looked up at you from above.

All that I believed you could accomplish

Is the self-belief I never allowed myself.

So I no longer regret those decisions.

The days I longed for you in my life are past.

I’ve realized that melody I heard when you spoke?

That melody was mine.

The feelings I had of self-acceptance

Are inside myself.

The passion and energy I felt is what I created, not others.

You cannot rely on people for self-worth, for outside validation.

Your identity verifies your validity.

I’m the one who got away.

I hope as age and wisdom come to you

As it comes to us all

You’re able to appreciate the rose you once had.

Shoot Your Shot

Shoot your shot.

Shoot your shot because it is what you were born to do.

Shooting is your purpose.

Shooting is your life.

Shooting is your meaning, your existence, your everything.

You’ve never thirsted for anything like you do for shooting.

You hunger for not just the success but the adrenaline that comes from pursuing it, the fervor that reaches every corner of you.

You know of no greater sound than the swish of the net and the brief interlude after, that elusive shiver down your spine.

Shoot because you want to hear the arrow whistle past your ear.

Swing away because it’s wrong not to.

Shoot because you can’t imagine life without it

Because not shooting makes you feel dead inside.

Because a stagnant wind has no rush.

Because to see the peak of the mountain but only see it, not live it, is no way to live.

Failing isn’t failure. Success is often bred by failure, often cannot come into existence without it.

Think about all the shots you’ve missed in your younger years.

Pull

Release

Clank.

Pull

Release

Clank.

Stroke: Embarrassing.

Technique: Sloppy.

Knowledge of craft: Elementary.

The net looked like a pinhole.

The hoop was in the heavens.

The ball in the strike zone was a pixel.

Shooting with success was impossible, defied logic, defined a fool’s hope.

And yet you shot again.

You shot because even though everything rational in your life told you not to, you knew you were supposed to

Because shooting was like breathing.

It was not a choice but a bodily autonomous function, an action.

You were built to.

For all your flaws, all your hazards, losses and detours

Shooting was undoubtedly you

And so not shooting is a disservice to you and the world.

Failure is not shooting.

Failure is refusing to serve.

Failure is fear and fear kills more dreams than failure ever will.

Shoot in the face of defeat.

When the odds are stacked against you, shoot anyway because your purpose cannot be taken from you.

Your spirit, your faith, your self-worth, your identity: only you can relinquish these.

Shoot in the glare of denial.

When someone says you can’t do something, shoot because you can or even because you can’t

Because regardless of result, shooting is what you do. That is where you belong.

When someone says you’ll never be the same after a setback, don’t be.

Be greater.

When you’re the underdog, embrace the challenge.

Because we often are capable of more than we ever believed.

Shoot during the pain of loss.

Shoot because shooting is how you honor them.

Shoot because shooting is how you cope.

Shoot because shooting is how you gain.

Shoot because every shot is an opportunity to shock the world, no matter who you are or what you’ve done before and more importantly, to revitalize yourself.

Shoot because you remember the shots you missed.

It empowers the shots you make.

Don’t afford yourself the opportunity to remember the shots you didn’t take.

Shoot because the next shot could be your moment.

Because it’s how you become immortalized.

Because you are a writer of history.

Because we all make it.

Bleed in pursuit of it. Blood isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a display of heart.

Break.

Crumble.

And rise again stronger.

Run faster.

And fire away once again.

Do your best to treasure it.

The path to the gate of success is half the experience.

It is long.

It is hard.

It is insufferable.

It is agonizing.

And yet you continue to shoot.

It is dark

And you shoot.

It is thundering with doubt

And you shoot.

The tunnel is long and sometimes feels like a void you’ve recessed into, doomed to never escape.

Weighed by guilt, tortured by regret, punished by questioning your identity.

But you are both an immovable object and unstoppable force.

You are as strong as you allow yourself to be.

You have a purpose, a direction, a goal.

Nothing can hide it from you, no one can restrain you from it.

The promised land, as far as it seems, is still greater than you dream.

Flex like Ali.

Jump like Jordan.

Shine like Rapinoe.

Rejoice like LeBron.

Revolutionize like Steph.

Stun like Secretariat.

But most of all,

Shoot

Your

Shot.

Regret

You’re ever-present

Never more than a step behind

The curse that can’t be cured.

No matter how much I achieve or how high I reach

Like gravity, I feel your weight

Always dragging me down

Shaking my foundation, stinting my drive

Questioning my ability

Interrogating my choices.

My hopes, the only thing that sustains me

You mock.

You jest, you cackle, you scold the impossibility.

You deride my faith.

You remind me of who I was

And what I became

How far I’ve fallen

Who I am now.

You’ve never wanted to help.

You’ve never wanted to teach.

You’ve only wished for my demise

My suffering, my submission and acceptance

Of you and your vision

Because if I overcome

If I taste the actualization of my dreams

It would mean the end of you.

It would mean your existence was moot

That when I failed

When I fell

When I took the wrong path

When I crumbled and was pushed to the breaking point

And then rebuilt and shattered again

It would mean that all of it

From start to finish

Was worth it.

It would mean I took the road less traveled and won anyway

And it would mean you would have to face yourself.

You’d have to deal with the heartache

The paralysis, the emptiness and the doubt.

For once, you’d have to question your existence and purpose

Not me, not anyone else.

You survive on my pain.

You exist because of me.

You’re a parasite; you cannot live without me.

But I can live without you.

I can achieve in spite of you.

I can climb despite your sway.

If I can just believe

If I can just breathe

If I can just stand

If I can just close off my senses to all but my aspirations.

If I can just hear the beat of my heart

Pounding like a cavalry drum

The roar of the brass at my back

The strength of the strings by my side

And just realize that rhythm

Echo that melody.

If I can just remember the vigor of my younger days

If I can just hold onto that passion with an iron fist

If I can just relive the taste of achievement

If I can just savor the strength of a lost self

If I can just stir the embers of my heart

And feel the quenchless, raging fire of my soul once again

What can you do to stop me?

What can you do to prevent me?

Perhaps you should regret yourself, Regret

Because I’m coming for you.

We all are.

Keep your head on a swivel.

Your days are numbered.

They may be many, they may be more than I’ll ever see

But you will not be forever.

One by one, you’ll lose.

While we may spend a lifetime of falling

We’ll keep running, charging forward with intensity you can’t match

Succeeding in ways you never could.

You prey on the gutted and the lost.

You dare not battle with the strong, with the found.

If we all discover ourselves, there’ll be no place for you in this world.

I may not achieve what I dream with all my heart

But you will not win, Regret.

You may win today, you may win tomorrow

You may win for the next week, you may win for the next month

You may win for years and years more

But I will fight you every step of the way

For every blade of grass

For every mountaintop

For every dream

For every vision

For every sunset

For every winter’s snow

For every inch of my being.

It’s worth fighting for

Every chord, every scene, every shred of art

Every love lost, every friend foregone.

You may take it all from me, Regret

But the war for my soul is mine.

Where Are You?

I sense you every day

Sneak a peek at every smile, knowing it might be yours.

I can feel your auburn hair brush past, watch as it flows behind you, riding along the speed of your step.

You always have a place to be.

I just wish I was one of them.

Your laugh, that splendid melody, that joyous sound.

I rehearse it in my head daily

‘fraid I’ll lose it like I’ve lost everything else.

If happiness was a sound, it would be you.

I sense you in the brisk wind when I run, your sweet voice softly in my ear

“Don’t quit on me.”

I imagine your fingers under my chin, reminding me to keep my head up

Your hand on the back of my neck, a rush in my shoulders

A soft, glacier blue in your eyes

A blizzard that goes right through me.

There is a snow-covered paradise in there

A whirlwind, an oasis.

They’re mesmerizing.

There’s no shade of color which can command like that.

I can’t hide from you

And I don’t want to.

I remember the wit of someone I’ve never met

Deja vu.

Clever, sharp and whimsical

Endlessly endearing, a passion unmatched.

You are my North Star, my compass

My guide, my love.

I know everything about you

And also nothing at all.

I long for sweet nothings in my ear

But I hear only emptiness

An echo chamber of my own making.

I pain for luscious key strokes from the parlor

To see the Steinway roar by your hand.

You create in ways I can only dream of.

I try to find the path

But it evades me, as you do.

I yearn for the blossoms to bloom.

I never had a green thumb.

The American red maple stands strong year after year

Stubborn, patient and reliable as me.

We’ve gone through a lot of seasons together

That tree and I.

But I cannot grow a flower.

You are my rose.

I feed the deer every day.

I know how much of a Snow White you are.

Each time he comes around, I ask Jack if he’s seen you.

He looks up from his grub and in his eyes, I see the same trust and faith I see in yours.

But he has no answers for me.

Jack is a deer.

I’m asking a deer if he’s seen my wife.

Each night, I look up in the sky for you.

You’re always there, the one place I know you’ll be.

I wonder if you dwell in the stars in the twilight

Looking for me

Or if all I do

All I feel

And all I dream

Is a wisp of a life I wish I’d lived

And something that will never be.

Sincerely,

Yours Truly

Run In The Sun

It’s hot.

The Florida sun has never been kind to me.

I think God wants to remind me of the burn for later.

I run along the beach all the same. I run until I can’t feel my legs.

It’s a surreal feeling, not having any lower extremities.

Down

Up

Down

Up

Simply cogs in a machine, they are. They’ve been given simple orders and will continue to do so until they can no longer.

I’m just racing. Time is winning. Always does, it seems. Think it’s fixed but I’ve never been one to quit easily.

It’s at this point that life slows down for me.

Her grasp is digging into my shoulders.

Comforting cause I feel it, painful because I know it’s not real.

If it was, I’d feel the prick of her nails, the feline she is.

The ocean breeze is sweeping salt into my face like an obsessive housemaid

But all I can smell are the roses and my lady’s perfume.

It smells of cinnamon apple and a citrus blend.

When she’s trying to be fancy, she goes to lavender.

Sometimes, she’ll throw something lavish on when she’s trying to be naughty.

I can’t help but grin.

Rarely on the outside but always on the inside.

Got to play along with the facade.

Have to play hard to get.

Must keep the mask on to hide what’s underneath.

I’ve tossed my shades to the side but everything demonstrates clarity

The colors blurred into an artistic spread.

Blues like a clean river, sunsets like marigolds

Vivid splendor.

Right now, it’s just me and her.

My brain shuts off with her hands in my hair.

She knows my thoughts, mine hers

Our heads together.

In that moment, I feel…

Fulfilled.

Evolved.

Transcendent.

But it’s just a memory

A shutter from something invisible to me

Because she’s not there.

I’m alone and racing

Pacing about the dance floor with my arms outstretched for someone who’s never showed

And curtain call seems to get closer by the day.

I practice religiously

Obsessively glancing through a window to a courtyard where I know she won’t appear.

Looking through faces on my way back home, looking for my mademoiselle.

I’d recognize that glance for sure. I’d only need a glimpse.

But no.

Not today.

Or next week.

Or next month.

Or next year.

Maybe never

And the idea that’s even remotely possible puts me in a malaise.

She can make my world.

She, without knowing, can put it in a standstill.

Time stops for her

Perspective revolves around her.

And so on I run

Run with fire in my lungs

Charging ahead, looking for my Belle.

Maybe she’s on the edge of the world

Waiting for me

Just over this sandbar

Or maybe the next wave.

I know when I find her

The world will slow.

Seconds will feel like hours.

I’ll have a greater understanding of everything.

Beauty has a way of doing that.

Sincerely,

Yours Truly