Tagged: love

3-30-15

Meet me where the blue sky ends,
where the tree line tumbles into the arms
of tomorrow-
meet me where the citrus sun kisses the
earth on its slow retreat,
the blue place where the moon yawns and
rises each night from its slumber-
meet me at the point of imagination,
the spot where wonder blends with
awe,
where there is no beginning,
no end…
meet me at the point where all things
are possible,
those beautiful coordinates that
tie all paths together-
lose yourself with me on those roads-
meet me where the sky ends…
walk beside me on that trail,
and let us tumble together into the
arms of tomorrow*

3-26-15

Where are you, he asked into the
rain, crashing against him like a thousand
liquid stones-
where are you, he whispered into the night as
his words deftly weaved through the droplets,
cascading down like threads of crystal yarn-
his words met her mouth like a tempest,
words heaved heavily into the air, words that
crept as gently as frozen December breath-
she was lost, he realized
as she pressed close–
run to me when you are lost, he said, and
I will be your beacon in the night,
your end point, and your
starting line-
run to me when the world dilutes your
spirit,
and I will shield you from the storm…
yet stand with you in the rain*

3-24-15

She found him there, lost within the
shadow of himself,
stolen by the gaze of his unrelenting sun-
she mended his wilted petals, and sheltered
him from the ruddy embrace of his drought…
she was the sip that he’d never tasted,
the wine that he’d been too afraid to drink*

3-23-15

The old man lay there, nearly unconscious,
awake, but absorbing the sounds and emotions
spent nearby-
a failure to thrive, they said it was,
a failure to adapt,
a failure to grow,
to reinvent-
he always felt as if he’d walked along the beach
wearing dense rubber boots,
so close to beauty but unable to touch it-
so close…yet just out of reach-
he felt the minutes slip away into the
vastness of eternity,
tick by tick, just as they’d always gone,
and he felt sleepy…
tired,
threadbare-
he lay there…conscious but unconscious,
present, but absent,
one foot planted in this world, and yet one
stepping into the next,
he lay there alone with his thoughts,
without the strength to don his mask once more-
he breathed deeply, quietly, awake but absorbing the sounds
and emotions spent nearby,
and with silent eyes watched as the dawn absorbed the stars,
until the blue made way for the reds and yellows
and greens of the new-
a failure to thrive, they said it was,
to adapt, to grow, to reinvent-
the smell of the ocean crept in like a vine
and clung to him then..
how he longed to walk along the beach without his boots,
sand beneath his feet and the cool waves crashing against his skin…
the smell of the ocean crept in and clung to him,
as did a buoyant hope and promise that his
failure to thrive would be enveloped by his strength
to overcome*

3-5-15

I can’t help but drift off into daydream when I 

spot a plane in the sky-

maybe it’s the child in me,

still stuffed full of wonder and awe as it glints off the

sun like an afternoon star-

I wonder then, of the lives above us,

bound for the winds of everywhere…

some eager, 

some pained,

many excited, nervous, or afraid,

journeys and endings, departures and destinations…

I wonder what they’re thinking as they’re looking down upon us,

or if they’re wondering what I’m thinking while looking up,

and if our thoughts ever somehow intersect in the middle*

2-16-15

I understand you,
but I won’t believe you-
and though I will listen,
I’ll refuse to hear you-
my goals flow wild and ravenous,
hungry like a tempestuous river overflowing its
banks-
my truths are written in starlight,
penned long before my eyes first
sparkled under their audacious glow-
I cannot listen to the sour notes of naysayers,
steeped in doubt,
or the words of those without the sinew to retain
the weight of their objectives,
or the honesty of their ambition…
I believe in the certainty of natural truths-
in the verity of star notes-
the universal paths that we were born into-
the truth beyond the sunrise,
and the explanation behind the origin–
what we’ve been called to do,
what the dust whispered into our ears at birth,
in the language that only children seem to understand,
a tongue that we rediscover only when our purpose has been found,
our destination recovered-
we become fluent then-
and it is then that we should begin to hear-
it is then that we will need to believe*

2-11-15

The sun glinted off of the window in a soft, muted
gray,
and crept through the slats of the shutters
with a deliberately dreamy patience-
I awoke gently, silent and calm,
as if I’d slept for just a moment only-
I lay there in the room,
knitting thoughts like a patchwork quilt,
weaving decisions in and through like
a thousand tiny seams…
lost, yet grounded-
found, but drifted into the solitary end of the frame-
thoughts of you whisked up a wind in the stillness
as you danced and swirled into sentences muttered
into the echoes-
thoughts of you danced past stolen hopes
and charged to the forefront,
where the grass was thick and verdant, and the sky
kissed down in rains of cobalt and rebirth, and the breeze
dusted off of the trees in melodies of blooming laughter-
the day began then,
as the sun arose and whispered through the shutters
in hues of pale yellow and hollow gray,
but you were there, as I lay alone with my patchwork
thoughts,
you were there at the forefront,
the mast that kept me grounded,
the seam that held the world so tight-
the solitary edge of the frame that was fit for us alone,
under the cobalt sky, kissed by the rains of rebirth*