I wrote another poem a few days ago because I have entered this illusion of love or the to give love and be with someone. We are all connected anyway...
Update: 01/23/13 The love was not an illusion. It is real. And, the appropriate title for this poem is "The Well This World Creates."
The Swell/Well This World Creates
Tell me something
Tell me some thing
because I crave your words
like a warm evening breeze by the sea
Tell me some thing
because I crave your presence--
like rose petals fallen and crushed
on a walkway
Your voice moves me,
and you walk by oblivious--
Speak I pray of your old ways
of sitting in silence
battling thoughts of grief
as you compose beauty on
the keys I long to touch
while sitting next to you
or inside you
Tell me your stories
of how you came to be here
a careless child that I would love
to discipline but cannot help but to
shake my head and smile...
...Where did you come from?
When you lean in with a fraction of
intent in your eyes
I am utterly consumed
I could go up in smoke!
In your gaze everything passes
in waves
It's difficult to imagine I am
still
trying to figure out how you do that
You hold my attention
with your intention to listen
for just a little while
And, I cannot give rhyme or reason
to what is happening to me
And, I have cast off fear
to love you
And, though you may retreat and
retreat
I cannot tire of entreating
you to be with me
because my delight
is just to be -- in your gaze.
---
I've never felt so okay.
I've never felt like the world could end,
and everything is perfect
because I'm with you.
When I found you
still a child inside
still working our the chaos of being
in your mind
I would sing to you the truth
you are perfect in my eyes
Perfection
Perfectly beautiful
An effort at
Divinity
A hopeful soul
A wounded knee
A pleasant balm
oils, waters free
freely flowing
and part of Me.
I love you.
Shane, Cameron, Machidiel.
