*I’ve taken it upon myself to extend the ending to the movie, The Edge of Tomorrow. It contains spoilers. If you haven’t seen it, it won’t make as much sense. This is a link to a song from the soundtrack that may enhance your reading experience.
With every step the soldiers snapped to attention and saluted him. He walked past them briskly in his officer’s uniform, adjusting the cufflinks, wondering if this was a dream. Every day for the past—how many was it?—innumerable number of days, he had walked past them as a private. Now he passed them as a Major. Major Cage. The title hardly mattered now. He walked alongside the combat simulator. As usual, she was poised in the middle of the simulator arena, balancing on her arms above the floor, her legs like a plank. She wore a sports bra covered by a half inch, bullet proof vest and military cargo pants. Both black. Continue reading
Moonlight is a dangerous thing when you’re with a girl.
It does what your heart cannot always do.
It shows you what your eyes cannot always see.
It enhances beauty
playing upon cheek bones so every facial curve is silver porcelain
dancing across eyes with liquid grace
a splash of mystery
Moonlight converses in playful banter
even in silence
persuading every word
implying every word
inferring every word
Moonlight is a beautiful thing.
i close my eyes
but still see
the underside of eyelids
amorphous shapes of shining white
outlined against vast darkness
with tinges of red
i close my eyes
drift to sleep
but i am never
Will she ever see You instead of me
as eyes engage
will she know it’s my face but You’re eyes
will the glory be Yours instead of mine
When I dip her low
in the steady beat of song
will she know it’s You
confessing Your love
even as I haphazardly try my subtle magic upon her heart
In that brief pause
between the beat
the ordained steps that guide our feet
before I sweep her off her toes
will she know it’s You
supporting her with sturdy arms
in that moment of questioning suspense
May I never be such a perfectionist that I don’t share my creative work. May I never be so concerned with the opinions of mortals, or so comparative, that I refuse to share that immortal, creative part of me. It is mine, and yet it is yours. It may not be DaVinci or Steinbeck or Houston or Coltrane, but it is unique and beautiful and to not share it would be to deny a fundamental part of myself, to doubt a shining thread of my vibrant tapestry.
There is a sense within me that I’m special. That sounds cheesy and arrogant, I realize. It’s beyond feeling special though: it’s a belief that I’m destined for some great purpose. I think everyone believes this about themselves to varying extents, and this “soul-knowledge”–that’s what I’m calling it–is more than a product of nature or nurture, although they clearly play a role. If you don’t think you’re special, I wonder what happened in your life (or what didn’t happen?) that squelched your hope, and I hope you keep reading.
It’s a hard thing to move on, because then you run the risk–one that will almost certainly be realized–of being forgotten. Continue reading
If only I could remember forever the inspiration, the love, the joy, the sacrifice, and even the hurt, that I felt after a movie, a book, a kiss, a fun night with friends, a midnight conversation, a profound prayer…If only I could remember what it was like, holding my niece in my arms, gazing into her eternal eyes, realizing that she is suddenly part of my lucky life. If only. Continue reading
Is all our time forgotten
are the memories now dust
on the cover of a story
titled Just the Two of Us
pushed in the darkest corner
in the attic, in the hutch
does the journey now mean nothing
since it ended so abrupt
has the hurt choked out the joy
that we shared together once
can we part with wistful smiles
though the heart is nearly crushed
perhaps one day we’ll cherish
the excitement and the rush
of a once forgotten story
about you and me and us.
© 2014 Mike Tannian