Sweet Emptiness,
A welcomed contradiction of fullness.
But still the senses are dismayed at the longing, and
The heart is made sad by the absence.
It asks, where is the sunshine, the warmth, the passion?
No answer comes as it lays sleeping, dormant, alone and waiting.
Waiting, waiting,
Always waiting…
Its treasures lie in plain sight and
The knowing is revealed but the truth of it all remains hidden – by choice, but not mine.
The knowing says I must take a first step but can’t look behind as
It is a step that leaves no footprint and gives no clue.
But I remember as I have been here before,
Always alone, always.
This time I have learned that one step doesn’t always lead to another,
Another place, another time, another other.
But I don’t care anymore and therein lies the difference.
My steps have ceased to be random, with random direction or, as before, with no direction at all.
As it turns out, it really didn’t matter to either of us,
Never did.
Even this has passed,
But all too soon.
It has left yet
Is not forgotten.
It remains in touches
Scents and feelings,
In bright white smiles
Hiding the truth.
Soft kisses smother the sadness for
What could have been.
And so it has become only a tool
To be used, a means to an end.
Now it is nothing more than a silence to be heard, and
A touch to be remembered.
The magic of the night.
The brilliance of its darkness, the darkness of its light.
My soul is deep in the arms of midnight
Too deep to see,
To blind to know, with cries
Too silent to be heard.
I am astounded by the simplicity of the night,
But shocked by its truth.
So much time has passed with too little thought.
Now it is gone,
Forever to remain – unnoticed.
There comes a soft sadness with
Summer Sunday evenings.
A time of day that remains empty unless full,
Lonely unless shared.
One week’s ending is
Another’s beginning.
Just as his absence is just another ending
And his staying away just another beginning.
My lonely heart aches and
Forgotten tears fall in silence as
My memories of him are left to collect dust in the corner,
Their silence speaking volumes.
No one else cares,
No one else remembers, and still,
The soft summer sadness of Sunday afternoon silence
Continues without end.
The sound of rain takes me to a place of inner peace as the
Rain falls in sheets and slides down the roof and over its edge in a curtain of water.
Tree leaves dance with the weight of the rain and
Flowers wash their faces in its freshness.
The sky is lower on rainy days and
Holds us close to the ground.
Sounds are muted and muffled and
Light is defused in grayness.
But it is not a sad and depressing grayness,
But soothing and peaceful,
Full of necessity.
A rainy day, soft and dark, begs us to stop, rest and be mindful of our surroundings and loves.
It reminds us to take the time to be lulled by the patter of rain on the windows
Into a place of inner stillness,
And there remain, content to just be and accept what is.
When anger leaves, disbelief fades
And my heart takes a deep breath and feels a new peace.
Inside I feel different, sad but different.
The shift in conscious that I have longed for has taken over my being.
I have learned through experience that I won’t die…
That this is not what will kill me and as a consequence I know
I can accept that it will be what
It will be, or maybe not be at all… and that either way, it is ok.
Anger has left,
Disbelief has faded and, unexpectedly, peace has returned.
For this I am grateful.
(this is a re-post from two years ago – with edits)
It rolls out in waves from
One thought to another.
It remains as one heart flowing into the other
Then back again to me.
It travels by glowing starshine that lights its way
Through the darkest nights only to
Leave me at dawn as sunshine brings back the true sight,
Sound and taste of its love.
But as it leaves, its absence is not sad as the void left behind is open,
Open to every other possibility love can explore.
It becomes a love bigger than me in spite of its misplaced attention
And I see that it was meant for me, after all.
His hands at the center of my back
Touch the center of my being.
My hands draw him in,
Deep into my heart and soul.
We are two separate beings
joined in one existence.
It is an existence that comes and goes
is here and gone.
It is empty yet full.
We are together but always alone.
Maybe it is too much.
Too lovely, too sweet and smooth,
Deep but never whole.
Always over, again and again and again
But always just beginning.
It is back!
It has been gone so long, I thought it had forgotten me and
Had left me behind to wonder
And miss it,
To search for its faltering presence and
To long for its comfort.
My wanting and longing kept it away.
My acceptance of its absence, for its own reasons, not mine, brought it back.
I must resist the urge to hold it close
To crush it with my desperate need.
For its need for me is as strong
As my need for it.
The un-manifest became manifest.
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