My love, hold my hand, hold my heart as we learn this new dance. You opened this door to set this spirit free to learn to fly again and fly we shall. Lets open all the doors and let the fresh air in and enjoy it all. There have been and probably will be moments of insecurity as the shape and feel of what shall be forms. Will the shape ever be truly defined as we grow and discover, we can only know in that moment. Let me in, trust me, I want to share this with you - E
Come in from the cold, I have been waiting for you my whole life, H
Park Bench baby how'd we get so old,
My sure shag lady how were we so bold
My hair's long gone and skins all grey
Just hanging with you is my way, my day
Cuddle up and kick that time machine
a wicked smile's way better than serene
Recount the adventures and misdemeanours
relive the days of lovers subpoenaed
Let's sit together until the end is here
hold my hand and remember, laugh, not fear.
How young the old who live a big life
So happy this man with you as my wife (19 May 2008)
Life is a night, not a day in the sun as most poets write. Life is a journey into the dark from the warmth of a friendly bed along a lonely path and onward until their is no more but an empty box. And that too is dark. This is not so dreary or desperate. Life occupies us with the one thing we need to do, to find one's self and to awaken it on the journey. This path, the only real path, we must take alone. This learning journey is our own and no one can join us for in our own reality we are alone, always.
Gravel crunches under monotonous boots. A pathway follows the contours in a twisting climb to a ridge that defends me from a black skied universe. In the midst of night it is not dark. Moonlight like a spotlight blasts the high side of trees, leaves and rocks. The broken stone is reminiscent of monstrous course-grade sandpaper bent, twisted and glued to the path, my path, my way, my life. I sniff the cold damp air and feel the unseen dew mingling with the warmth of the sweat on my forehead.
So you think this sounds ugly, lonely, scary and unfriendly? It was once, but no longer is it so. The strength of the moonlight and the depth of the darkness fight each other. While the moon will not win a war forever fought, it has won the battle for my face as I look into hers, yours. Am I lonely?
How could I be, with you smiling at me framed in a veil of lace like stars.
Amidst the myth and reality of this solitary march you found my face and I have mirrored your smile. You bounce your light off a billion stars to join me on my march. How did you find me? How did you find a way to reach across a universe to me? Why? Why me? I can only imagine you know something, can see something I can not. I crunch onwards.
I would turn myself into a child's mirror and flash you back a message if I could but all I have is the light from my returning smile, your smile, your light. I could be down hearted, desperately humble at my glimmering response but in some bright place I know to do so would be to belittle your gift. So I walk, and walk toward the brow of the ridge and the sunrise I know you have prepared for me.
How could it have been more than one night!
(19th May 2005)