Wishes (The Waves)

There was once a woman that wanted nothing more than to share her life with her other half… she was fine on her own, but the element of love supreme was her most coveted passion that she kept close to her heart. One day while walking along the lake she stopped and took in the scenery… the beauty of it all took her breath away amd drew tears of happiness. As a tear rolled down her cheek she whispered to herself  ‘the man of my dreams should also enjoy this… I never met him but I miss him’ and the tear dropped into the still lake. The ripples resonated for a bit and then seemed to fade away… on the opposite side of the pond a man was standing at the shoreline throwing rocks into the lake… on the last throw his wrist watch flew off into the water

“Dammit!”  he said and he began to wade into the cool waters. He searched around and found his watch but noticed that the water had a stronger current then usual. Before he knew it he was swept up in the waves that were not there before. When he awoke he was greeted by the woman that secretly wished for the man she loved. He asked not where he was but only her name… when she replied he grabbed her hand and together they looked at all that was around them and then he whispered ‘this is where I’m meant to be’

Distant

If you must realize anything, come to see that all that happens in your life is not meant for your eyes…

Be still and know that your vantage point abides at the very center of all things unexplainable…

Rest assure that when the time comes that you will travel further than your feet or any vehicle will ever carry you…

But there is no way by which this measurement can be taken… so in the meantime live your life…

Should the sun be shining, step into it and feel it’s song… should it rain, experience being washed from above… on the coolest days, take pleasure that you can breathe and that the sting is not that of death…

Laugh and play with family & friends and should you find yourself in the arms of another… love them…

Travel the world… then look inside and travel your world, see all those moments that were not wasted waiting… but well spent being.

At the end of the process of doing all of this, your journey will come to and end… then you will feel the blow of where the wind first blew…

You’ve gone so far… but returned home to love…

The Photographer (The Darkroom)

The conversation will end and every glance that could be sent across a table has been received, enjoyed and returned…

Smiles and laughter will linger in the air, haunting as if a memory begging to be held on to for fear of passing over to moments forgotten…

Take a picture and it is said that it will last longer…

But if that is the fate of becoming immortalized then let the photograph to be, not become… for I will only accept the passing of time, to take you from me… and I refuse to limit myself to but a thousand words when it comes to you…

Though it is extremely challenging to say anything more than you are so beautiful… Over time I will say it in so many ways, surpassing the thousands of words that most would stop because they figured enough has been said… Because they look at you and not in you…

I see you…

Knowing that all the pictures in the world could not possibly capture you… that they may perish in a fire, smear from being handled, damage from water… and fade from time…

That the actual you… will inspire a burning love… beckon to be held… may cry every now and again… and in time leave this world…

The day I met you, my soul took a picture of you and developed it in my heart…

 

(NNE14)

Devious (Thou Art a Villain)

Of what is beautiful…

Is that of which you have taken for yourself to draw from… only to return said things in ways that drive straight into my heart… and I am drawn to you, but you are withdrawn…

Was it that you captured me or my likeness?

So skilled in being able to produce portraits, displaying them to the world… but I beg you to examine your own works more closely to see if I was indeed sitting still… waiting for you to finish, impatiently pleading to see how you truly see me…

If you’ve ever seen me at all…

Close your eyes and think… let the absence of of my presence sink in and probe the darkness for my image…

Can you see me? Or shadows of might have been…?

Realize that in the time I gave to you… I was waiting for the perfect moment to give you my heart…

You thought you it was yours to take… But it has always been mine to keep…

 

 

 

 

Watercolors (The Artist)

My subject… allow me to subtract the world around you, so all that remains is a portrait of you…

Background noise of various memories that must be no more, yet they are everything and so much more… but fail to remain underwater…

Once washed over with every thought of you and basking in the rain are now but tears that fall onto a page, where I attempt to paint the best but the color refuses remain…

Faded away… not even the black and white are present… the imagery is all gone…

All that is left is you, which can not be removed because I didn’t create you…

And with my hands covering my face, I wonder if it would have been wiser to just give you my heart and not my mind… for my heart will heal, but I am but an artist and you will never leave my thoughts…

Departures (Blackbirds)

This comfortable place where I sit perched… is not my home… and feels all too familiar.

The warmth of the thoughts we share…

Are only what they are… thoughts… and not things that we actually have.

Still we covet them as our own, without regard to the other’s rights to hold onto them… We are thieves of the night…

And as time keeps ticking…  the night is bound to end and I have a long way to travel before daybreak… yet I cannot help but continue to sing song, knowing that you know why caged birds sing…

Songs of being hypnotized without exchanging a single glance, of intoxication minus wine and glass, of passion without so much as a touch of the lips…

We packed light to come so far and have the weight of years on our souls… that when we attempt to fly away, we only make it so far because we break our wings…

And it breaks my heart…

That I can still see you from the short distance traveled, so I come back knowing that when my wings heal once again…

I will have to fly away to the same distance I was before…

Before they break again…

Just before the light of day…

And throughout the day I will endure thoughts of you… How beautiful you are even when you’re broken… and as much as it pains me to say it… come the next night I will walk away to a safe distance and from there fly away…

Leaving the night deafened and still…

 

 

 

 

 

Carillons à Musique (Silence)

The world rages on… though you needn’t fear…

Hush…

What I hear shall not fall upon you… but the lullaby of my heart beating will resonate to yours… providing the only reason you will ever find tears, that do not come from pain…

Speak not…

For there is not a single word that need pass between us, while my arms hold you close that could even begin to describe what I wish for you to know…

Feel…

The water from my eyes that are extracted from the very center of my unselfishness (… you are so beautiful…) and let them wash you over, but never away….

I am yours… you are mine…

Forever I will love you…

 

 

DaliVaro (Surreal)

Choose to remember or try desperately to forget…

In between those two acts of living… I sleep, breathing in silence and exhaling my days… what is this persistence of memory? Dream a dream and by the light of morning the images will melt away, no matter the effort we attempt to grasp them…

They never happened or existed…

Try as I might to place myself in that time… only results in fanfares of distorted and often dim images of fantastic landscapes in warm colors…… and I am missing… because I was never there in the first place… just old photographs underwater beneath a bridge that stands between there… and my waking moments…

The breath of being apart from there brushes against the skin…

It whispers that fantasy is not far from reality…

To be a part of the night, not apart from it… while others are sleeping… exist with no exits… letting the soul dance to the Claire De Lune, become drunk on the intoxicating exchange of speech and let spirits free you from inhibitions…

That you have painted the town red many of times before, that on this night the color to remember will have nothing to do with the town nor the sounds of the streets… but from connection…

Be there with her… look into her eyes… realize that it is all happening… forget what you know…  let your imagination run wild… and should she ever ask what you remember about the night we met…

Boldly whisper… I will always remember you… it was a dream I shall not easily forget.