Across the Night Mile

my word journey…

When I was a kid…
in school…
I so enjoyed reading… and literature…
it felt like doorways…

I loved to write stuff back then…
my teachers would encourage me…
give me a little praise here and there…

I always felt a strange connection to writing—
it tugged at me throughout my early years…

But after high school…
I mostly abandoned it…
I just folded it up neatly…
put it away…

Except for trying to write a few songs once in awhile…
but it was like I had the worst word block…
for most of my life…

I could feel the words…
I just couldn’t effin find them…

I guess it wasn’t time yet…
I was still living it all…

So I laid my pen down…
grabbed a pick…
grabbed my guitar…

I let it fly…

I stopped trying to write my own songs so much—
focused on learning all the songs on the radio…

I bought album after album…
I learned them…

Music became me…

Great lyrics from the heart and soul of others…
helped me see in the night…

The words that were in me—
that I couldn’t find—
I found elsewhere…
and put them in me…

An endless amount…
filling all the holes…
inside… 😎

With my pen in my pocket…
a guitar in my hand…
I stood tall…

Step after step…
strum after strum…

I walked it out…
through the fire…
through the rain…
through the pain…

I walked it out…
across the night mile…

Alone…
but never alone…

I walked it out…

Now…
I just look back…
and give it all—
the final finger… 😁

I think the pen is about ready for action…
again…

A few months ago…
I had a dream…

Words were on their way to me—
riding the night…

I dreamt of a poem…

I was so moved when I woke…
I just laid in bed thinking…

Then—for about twenty minutes—
I wrote…
bringing to life the dream…

For a week after that…
the words kept up…

Coming from somewhere inside…
pouring out…
filling pages…
Feeling right…

like I found a buried key…
to a blue treasure room…

This happened all of a sudden…
in one night…

And it hasn’t stopped since…

I’m just trying to keep up…

I don’t know why it came when it did—
but I’m thankful it did…

The great dam…
has finally broke…

I started feeling something inside…
a hummingbird…

Telling me I should start a blog…
so I did…

So here I am…

So what do I do now?
haha…

I think I’ll just be me…

I started feeling I should write about my life—
so I did…
so I have…
so I probably will more…

I never dreamed how much it would help me…
by telling my story…

Like draining a fevered swamp…

So when I write now…
I pray some…

I pick out my music…
usually a full album…

I get in the zone…
it’s game time baby…

Then I remember…
then I go back…
to how it was…
to how it felt…
to the emotions of it all…

Then I embrace that intensity…

I let my words rise from inside…
like heat from the asphalt…

Then I let go of it…

I give it all away—

for good… 😎 `’.,°~

She once believed… in every story he had to tell…

Once divided… nothing left to subtract… some words when spoken… can’t be taken back…

And He who forgets… will be destined to remember…

© 2026 Bryan H. All Rights Reserved.

life is like an effin’ box of chocolates… 📦 🍫

last night while sleeping…

Last night…
in my dream…
I was Forrest Gump—

only for a little bit
and not nearly as smart as him 😁

But seriously…

I was sitting on a bench—
in a town square—
just like the movie

As I do in all my dreams…
I scanned everything first—
taking it in—
inspecting the air
the place
the feeling—
before diving in

Sitting beside me on the bench—
was a man I recognized

Gary

My neighbor from when I was about fourteen—
he lived directly next door
he used to play football with me and my friends
he took me fishing often—
he loved to fish—
and he didn’t like going alone

He didn’t really have friends either

He and his wife Nancy—
were from upstate New York
they’d moved to the Atlanta area for work—
and I assume—
to eat grits 🙃

Gary was older than me—
about twenty five
I was fourteen…
and still missing the toilet when I pissed

I looked up to him—
like a big brother

The last time I saw him—
was a few months after my friend’s funeral
not long after that—
he and Nancy moved away—
I think back to New York—
if I remember right

There we were—
side by side—
on that bench

I spoke to him…

He turned toward me—
but he didn’t know who I was

So I told him—
reminded him of our past—
the fishing
the football
the neighborhood

Then he remembered…

His eyes lit up…

And then I told him—
that God loved him

His face changed…

He became sad—
started crying

He told me—
his family was very worried about him—
very concerned

And that was it…

I woke up…

End of dream…

I went downstairs—
made coffee—
then breakfast—
in that order

I’ve thought about him all morning…
I prayed for him…

For some reason—
I have the feeling that today—
this very moment—
he’s in a storm

Unless…

maybe it isn’t about him at all…

Maybe it’s about me…

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved


…….<3~~~<3→†→||→†→<3~~~→†”’ `’.~°.♡♤◇♧\|( -;-_

Memories… like fingerprints… are slowly raising…