Death was a gift to the living
And life was a gift for the dead,
I’ll find my love when beginning
By no longer being bereft.
I am grateful for you always,
No matter where we are,
I’ll find you in that crowded square
Where everyone wears a mask.
Death was a gift to the living
And life was a gift for the dead,
I’ll find my love when beginning
By no longer being bereft.
I am grateful for you always,
No matter where we are,
I’ll find you in that crowded square
Where everyone wears a mask.
The hardest part in parting
Is the parting part,
Yet if not for parting
You would not have my heart.
A door is here before me,
Painted lower blue,
It has a personality
As much as any door might do.
This door said something to me,
And hoped to expound
Profoundly about
His love of locks and keys
And things like this which fit
Sometimes perfectly,
Although I can’t be sure
Because I am not at all
Proficient in languages
Of barriers between here
And there, in this case
Made from old oak trees.
Sometimes he would be drunk
And talk at length about how
Things were better in the past,
When doors like him had respect
And weren’t just for walking through.
Sometimes he turned maudlin
And sad for people’s passing hues,
Who only caught a portal,
And missed his greater truth.
He is permanently locked up now,
Shackled, chained and bolted;
No one visits the other side
Since the gardeners all revolted.
People continue to walk by
On their way to shops
And markets brimming with fish
And semi precious stones.
Where there are weeds, I see Time;
Where there is pollen, I see potential;
Where there is a door like this door
I see what did and didn’t happen,
And that’s why I’m still here
On a shore distant and remote
From all I adored about you.
I yearn for you,
As nature yearns for birth,
As water yearns to fall
And become something else,
Something different,
As the Moon observes the Earth,
As silence takes its turn.
Moments freefall
Without you
And that is why my love
I yearn.
590.
I was well beaten
Out of myself, inside filled
With something else.
589.
Days like haiku,
No desire, expectations;
Just balance and form.
588.
Your hands ran with care,
Caressed my wet shower-hair.
Absent minds overflow.
587.
Ginger tomcat stalks
Furthest reaches of the lawn
We exist once more.
586.
Although we’re apart,
I found forms of happiness
Knowing you would last.