I made too much of it,
More than it was.
But not at all what I
Wanted it to be.
Yet I continued, wanting,
Wishing, and hoping and for what?
For another night? It was just a one night
At a time love.
It feels unreal now,
a waste of me, of my soul and heart.
And now begins the slow fade into blackness and silence, just like all the others, as
My soul bleeds and my heart beat stops and
My eyes, still in their blindness, wish it were not so.
I sit on the stage.
Darkness surrounds me.
The audience, if there is one,
Is silent.
There are no props on the stage
Only layers of black curtains.
I don’t remember auditioning for a play,
But here I am.
It’s odd there is no music or
Other players.
I sit in my darkness for what seems like forever
But there is still no sound, no movement, no life.
Just stillness and a mild sense of confusion.
I feel the space in front of me more than see it.
I sense it is there, curtains in a circular shape
A boundary perhaps but between what and where?
The other side is unknown and unknowable
Until the show begins.
But will it begin? Still no script or players,
No music or lights.
I run my hand through my hair to prove to myself that
I am still real in this sensory deprived place.
But what is real about an empty stage, a wordless play,
A playerless story?
I begin to realize that
None of those things matter.
All is stillness and non-separate.
The “show” never begins and never ends.
The circular curtain and empty stage contain eternity
And this space is an empty place within me.
There will be no play, no script,
No lights, no audience.
This story is mine, the darkness my stillness,
The only witness, me.
Just me as part of the universal consciousness
Acting out a play of well-rehearsed lines without ever saying a word.
Each player a part of the whole
Never separate from the others.
All joined in the cosmic drama
Of existence.
The curtain rises on one story, one actor, one consciousness
In an act that never ends.
Coastal dunes slide and slip into the sea
As the storm rolls on to the north.
Gulls scurry to grab unfortunate crabs washed ashore by the crashing waves.
Seaweed floats and ripples with the waves like grass in the wind and
Salty sea spray coats the disinterested windows of empty houses on the shore.
The tourists have all left for the season
Leaving the ocean and beach to carry on with their lover’s dance
Un-witnessed and unashamed, with freedom and reckless abandon.
I saw the stars last night,
Didn’t even have to get out of bed.
They were so bright in the cold, dense,winter air
That they shown right through my lacy bedroom curtains.
I saw it as a reminder of what is still there and always will be,
And to find it yet again,
We just have to look through the holes one more time.
Monday morning winter sunshine warms my room and
James Taylor serenades me and my oatmeal.
There are frost etchings on the old warped glass windows that surround my space.
In the harsh light of day, my mind and heart step back to echos of last evenings secret loving,
Soft as the candle flames flickering on my night stand.
A lingering warmth traces his outline in my bed as his Cheshire cat smile is the last to leave,
Only fading with the daylight.
I am not a quitter but there comes a time
When the fight is lost.
They say to resist is futile, as some things cannot be defeated
And may not need to be, so,
I have taken the advice given and
Have made the decision.
I have gone to the room,
Cleaned the cobwebs out of the corners, painted the walls yellow,
Arranged the flowers on the table and freshened the bed with clean, crisp linens, after all,
He deserves only the best.
It is a south facing room,
I know he likes the sun and heat.
I looked at all the other rooms – all unoccupied,
But none were quite as nice.
I don’t think he will be lonely there as
I will always be with him.
I’ll have to find a safe place to put the key;
I know I will use it often.
Especially at first,
I know he will come out a lot.
I’ll have to hold him gently in the palm of my hand,
Put him back in and lock the door each time; there is no other way.
I know I’ll complain about the inconvenience,
But it really will be my own fault, as I’ll still think of him too often.
They say in time I’ll see him less and less.
I’m not so sure of that, but I hope they’re right.
But right now I can take no more; he refuses to leave so I have no choice
As he comes uninvited into my thoughts daily.
So when those thoughts and feelings overwhelm me,
I will hold his essence in my hands and send him back.
And when I send him back, he will need no direction
As he knows which room is his.
It’s the first one on the right,
The only yellow room in my heart.
Revelations come to me when I least expect them unwanted, but insistent that I listen.
They are the kind I don’t want to know and don’t want to hear.
But they come anyway . Maybe to clear the way,
To open my heart and eyes and speak the truth to my soul.
But they are hard truths to take.
My heart says no, but my head and soul say “Yes, listen and know”.
My heart is a child, trusting , self-deluding and innocent.
My soul aches for her in her time of pain and sorrow.
Love is not only felt by my heart, my soul loves too.
But my soul is blessed with a stronger constitution, a greater consciousness, a better understanding.
It is older and wants to protect my heart, wants to spare her from pain but knows it can’t.
So it warps itself around my heart and holds her while she weeps and sleeps. It knows that time will heal her and is patient in the waiting time.
My soul knows my heart is good and kind and that she loves unconditionally and breaks because of it.
My soul knows that my heart knows no other way to love so it waits and loves and holds and protects with gentle hands and the love of God.
Together, in time, we will love again, all three of us,
I’m sure of it, my soul told me so.
The dark swallowed me whole – and
The moon knew I could not say no.
You came to me and held me close,
I was putty in your hands – and
The moon knew you could not stay away.
You kissed my face and lips,
I kissed your mouth and eyes- and
The moon felt our building heat.
Your hands slid over my body and
Woke all of my senses – and
The moon felt your passion.
Our lovemaking was hot and real and
Warmed the ground beneath our bodies – and
The moon, not wanting to intrude, turned its face and looked the other way.
While I slept you covered my naked body with flowers from my gardens
And then just walked away, unmoved – and
The moon cried for me.
When I take the time to look inside, instead of outside,
I find miraculous things. Things I never have seen before,
Feelings I never have noticed and rules I never have followed.
Oftentimes they are the feelings and rules I have imposed on others but never followed myself.
Others whom I say I know well and in my arrogance convince myself that I know how they think,
And feel but in reality, my assumptions are baseless and I realize
That it is only me who I can ever know…
But only from the inside out.
A field of brown grass,
A drop of chilly dew,
A morning kissed ripe apple, and
A bursting milkweed pod…
Signs of the change of seasons and an
Elevation of my consciousness.
Summer has ended.
It has shed its past and faded into isness
But it’s an isness that is charged with the now.
At the change of seasons, there is a new definition of me.
One that shifts with the sun angles and holds my spirit in kindness.
It is a newness in me that ebbs and flows with the tides and moon cycles.
That builds on the new life essence that captures my attention
That fills my heart and soul.
An essence of change, of new life, of new beginnings from old endings.
It is a change that envelopes my being and carries me along with it.
A flood of truth and trust, a deluge of emotions and warmth.
My heart misses the summer season but my soul is alive with the contentment of the coming winter.
A sheltered silence in seasonal separateness
But all together just the same…
In shared seclusion.
heartwordsforpoetry 