What are you thinking she asks?
There is no answer. Only the silence that she has now come to know.
What happened to all the words?
It seems they were ripped violently from this plane
only to be absorbed by black matter that will never let them go.
Where is the laughter? Why has it died away? Were there no watering holes to fuel it’s liquid needs?
What of the tears?
They have dried and formed small hills of salt on the plains of her existence.
Where is the proof of lovely times past?
It has disappeared like invisible ink. Only to be seen again when acidic juice falls upon the pages. Revealing what was but is no longer.
What of the heart?
It wills upon itself scar tissue, in the hope of covering open wounds.
But it wasn’t all bad. Right?
I sometimes wonder about the why’s of life.
Why do we let ourselves fall into an emotional life with some and not with others.
Why do relationships end?
Does it do any good to even try to figure such things out?
When love is forsaken how do you go on?
Does time heal all wounds, or do we heal them ourselves with time?
Where does the love go once it’s no longer shared?
Does it float gently into the ether and linger softly around us as spiritual dew?
Or does it permeate others who are in the new and lovely phase of knowing.
Pollinating souls …
What of the residue that lingers? Why does it do so?
And, how do we protect ourselves from repeating the pain again?
I am thoughtful, and it’s at times like this that I truly wish I knew the ‘why’ of it all.
If only the universe would share its secrets.
If only my heart could rise above …
Until all I feel is the wispy tendrils of clouds, as they curl lightly about me.
Thank you for the lovely times.
Moments of breathless intimacy
All of the hours spent speaking, laughing and sharing moved me.
Bits of humour known only to the two of us will linger within my cells.
Our souls collided for a reason. Whether we understand why or not.
Warm heaven –
soft and delicious.
Imprints stored within the heart
now unframed yet still matted
surrounded by beating warmth.
But not forgotten.
So, here I sit at 4:30 am …
It’s still dark outside and there’s a lovely quiet that permeates the world. I’ve forgotten how peaceful this time of day (albeit extremely early morning) is.
I used to always wake up at this time. I would bounce out of bed a moment before the alarm went off and greet the day. Of course, that was when my body clock wasn’t completely off kilter.
There’s something about the beginning of a new day that brings thoughts of possibility. It’s as if everything one believes, desires or thinks will be attainable.
Life is fresh.
Even the air (which has not yet been saturated by the hot Summer sun) is sweet, cool, moist and new.
I am once again acquainting myself with its beauty.