Something strong this way went

That taste...still on my lips. The tip of the hose kept a lingering taste of sweetness from a piece of a torn map. You left it, it's still there.

The truth in secrets behind every whimsical stare somehow remaining untouched by every day of emotional struggle. Like a child fighting to keep warm outside in a winter's chill. I felt you, without cause or reason.

And called it "Love".

The goals glowed as bright as the coals at midnight and later, finding a peace inside the obscenity of a man trying to provide a better life for something you were always right about...something that never had a definition...I'm now at peace, remembering that you were correct, in every way.

If I'm me, and you're still true you, then we've both found something. Whether it be a ripped treeswing in the distant future, or a pain of something that should have never been lost, its a discovery, nonetheless. I would ask you, allow yourself to sleep in the solace of such a new place. Unfounded from the foundation to the steeple. A church of the new, an open air venue, where you always were the preacher, choir, congregation and the the one faulted by Love's cause..are you still there? Wandering through pews and aisles where you expressed the passion of everyone around? Or are you alone? Regardless of the physical disposition, it follows you, unsplintered and true to its form, the church of your soul. And it cries still to you, find yourself, LOVE...yourself. Be at peace, on this earth, with yourself. It deserves you and you deserve the best your Dad has to offer, which is not yourself.

...I gotta go...and I can only be what I was created to be, all else is vanity (do you remember?). I give you what I can, which is still too much, I still believe in the best in you. There is still time, there is still hope. He awaits behind the open door you keep staring at. I'd ask you to stop waiting. Walk slowly, carefully. Nothing else matters now but truth. That sweet taste has effected me forever, and I will carry it without anger or distain. Your spirit is more pure than to be what you believe you are. Be well...please...be well. You are greatly Loved.

I'm thankful for the healing piece of the map. It has helped to make me whole and find my way to my treasure. Of which is so much more grand than I allowed myself to imagine..even in my strong belief and idealistc nature, you would know that's bigger than the planet.

Be well...please, be well. You ARE greatly Loved.

In case you're alone again ;)

Feeling so...alone?

Of course, is it a reaping? Some dark pattern of life that exists to place its boney finger on my present? Will it exist in the future? I have no idea.

Seems to be familiar, in that I've been the ignorance, the silent partner. Refusing to know what to do or how to proceed. Hiding under the blanket of my own selfish comfort instead of facing the giant, head on. I ran...so why should I think it will be different for me?

The terms "life or longer" apply to the finest of moments. But those bereft of photos...kind words and faces. Words that wrap a soul into the blanket of Loved one's Love and faces that levy every issue of the soul.

World, Meet Her

World, meet Her.

Meet wisdom,
Meet understanding,
Meet strength,
Meet endurance,
Meet struggle.

Meet the one person whom will not drop you.
Meet a learned decision maker.
Meet tears.
Meet the weeping of a senseless string of garbled transmission in hope.
Meet the find in this universe.
Meet a soul stained with white.
Meet an illusion of fear.
Meet an overcomer.

Meet my help.
Meet truth when is doesn't exist.
Meet the Lover of my greatest gifts.

Meet a kiss that is forever meant.
Meet a new born's lips and breath.
Meet the nightmare's good dream.

Please, my friends, please...

Meet my one Lover.

My Always Thought

Everytime she sways her thought I think of the rocky passages that litter my flight path into her soul...

The birds with wings that never grew. Meant to carry her SOS to help that never came. Being the entity in her dreams that always heard them, but could never come to her aid...until now.

I am not pretender. I am flying toward you. Arms with no feathers open wide. Shooting through the turbulence and dichotomy of awkward feelings and tattered memories. Like a blue streak with golden trails. I'm flying straight to your hearts soul... To rescue from shadows that wont let go. The scars on my hand, their fear. But You, My Love...do not fear these hands. They are attached to the arms that hold you. Which are attached to the chest that parks you...

Which is fed by the heart that beats your blood and keeps me flying. That can never have too little space...for you, my most Love. To the end of all things...

I desperately, Love you.

(written: 9/26/10)

Choosing my path

While you sleep, I dream of you.
But not in the night as romantics often pace their thought to draw out inspiration.
In their sad lyric...

I want to be over. I need to be over.

When the night shines, we lie awake and seek to do better, to be better.
And our thought as thick as a warm fog blanket becomes the spice of our life and Love.

Were it to be breathless, I long for less breath.
Or the night's light to burn out.

I want to drink the kerosene and swallow the wick to carry our moments of stillness and fearful distrust into the cave of our despair. To be lit again on the other side of this mountain, disregarding my life.

To struggle again in heaven's hell,

our staycation for taking the scenic ways.

You, Love, Life, the Sunshine and the Moon

Experience:

I know every pore that strains when you laugh, but more so when you cry. Because I've walked these roads you've traveled. Stopped to feel the desert sand in my hand. Rolling it up and blowing it away as if it could somehow dissipate the pain as well. Same slightly ahead. Same slightly behind. And I feel you everywhere. Both have now experienced the same pain.

Funny? That we've walked these places? Of ALL the comfort spots in our great city...hmph (we know it means something, for now, denial seems better). No doubt drawn by each others presence. As if by cosmic reason, emotional need, we were able to still satisfy the need for comfort. To be understood by each others Sun print or Moon print. Until time removed the blinders, revealing our true source for each other...each other.
Refashioned Love songs and tones I'm sure reverberated in your head. These thoughts are meant to be. This is not a mistake. Nor a cosmic joke.

But facts, universal facts.

" They" are all pretenders.
I've had them around for so many years.
And the fear that surrounds is the click of a seat belt in passenger side.
To ride the rest of this life as JUST that.
To be subject to drivers twists, turns, anxiety, road temperament, judgement...lack.
This doesn't mean " they" are bad people. " They're" surely not, God forbid.

But there is a glove for every hand and like OJ, if one can...try and make it fit. Visual evidence is not based in belief. " OJ" always was a perfect fit, no matter how dirty it got.
No need to go to Rag's and find another. Unless you believe you're a soul seamstress and can make anything fit! Haha!
If that is true? Student reaches higher heights than teacher, as you've so called me. But remember, I've always ever said it's not me that "taught". Just a wiring diagram I showed you. Happened to be the map of your soul's layout. And my SPS is always dead point! HA!

So really? Who's the teacher then? Not a question for answering. Just another thing on that hot plate of pondering. God, I miss and Love the warmth of that stove! And when we added our pasta thought bubbles, seeing the steam overflow of conversation. Bleeding its way out from the cover, down the sides of the pot and onto our heating element to be evaporated.

I've never had the thought in my head that you talk too much. I've never kept the thought in my head that you're just too much. I drown myself in every word you think to say but leave behind in freckled eyes and beautiful crooked smile, while biting your lip. Even without that, you give you away. Or it's just that I know what you're thinking as you have each thought. And yet...

Still feel such a depth to your soul. Deep waters even my free-diving experience cannot allow me to reach. No wonder that he can't hold you. I don't think I fully could either. But I know by instinct what to do when time comes, and understand why.
But if given the option, just for this sake. I'd ask to go back to where time began and start my search from there with Adam. Looking for the depth of your soul. Maybe by the time we reach each other I'll be somewhere near the depth I can now reach. Only time will tell, and I'm frustrated with her damn secrets ;).

And my soul says, " that look in your eye...reminded me TWICE that I was alive. And it reminded me that you're so worth the fight."
I'd wait for thrice, and so on...and die again and again to be reminded of twice. And I'd fight for the worth that you know not of.

You are infinitely interesting...

(written: 8/1/10)

Today

Colors of trustworthy optimism run around before like painted bees inside the cone of a hive. All just waiting to be called.
They have been called, only one was chosen. Although those colors don't compliment the projected aura that loosely floats about.

She wasn't there, neither was he. I could see the sadness in her soul, a sight only visible to me, I'm sure. Knowing that she wouldn't weep until she was alone, I take a moment to cry for her in silence.

Her words roll off her tongue like erratic melody of the most beautiful song. So made mention in the silence that cotton tails come from their holes and squirrels from their trees to listen, hoping for a nut to fall...there were many (haha). But I gathered them up to make a necklace for her.

Someday I'll give it to her, but not today, definitely not tomorrow. Haven't found a suitable pendant yet. And she Loves pendants. I know this well.

Leaving the room. Been so good to not be noticed so far, knowing I just shouldn't be there. Amygdula so shot it's spinning sparks everywhere across the floor of my sub-conscious mind. Like a tree trunk pushing it's way into the center of my chest. But I tuned it out, to this. Her theme music today:



" Yellow streetlight, you illuminate the road so often traveled. In a dream life, I would silently observe your path to nowhere. And you're gonna light me up, in a way I could never explain.

Always letting go to leave you closer leaving. Doesn't mean that this is over. Don't forget about the things that make you feeeeeeel FREEEEE!

I would Love you Monday, thru to Sunday. If you're a non believer. Take me for an open-minded soldier, if you're a non believer.

YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! RIGHT HERE SOME, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!
Right here some...." (all so she doesn't get confused ;) ya know)

And on with that. Never ceasing, 'til my throat begins to bleed. Range is so a matter of perspective. To an exponent of some sort. And my perspective is getting high on my minds constant and ever flowing supply of serum that makes everything here taste good. And I can't find the petcock. Took it out when she left the first time and put it somewhere I knew I'd never find it.

You have fun, my Love. You know I'd be the only other one not drunk, cleaning 1/2 the mess at least. Sharing always. Care about you that much...always!

Til our next meeting. Arms open, facing the sound of that band of horses.