lessons of love come before ~

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knowmenow

off late
I’ve grown cold
to the ways of the world
bruised by the
easing of time

subdued by the splendor
of dreamless
intent
names rubbed away
by pieces of light

fixed to my window
by lacey white sparrows
winged past the
curtains
one night
as I lay

silent beside
the remembrance
of more
cursing the lessons
of love come before

a moment inclusive
of always

hands
O how lovely
they loved

. . .

july 24 ~

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thisclose

for times
I never took the time
days I let
get by
nights I slept
beyond the reach
of dreams
love I held
a moment long
candles blossom bright
paper plates
as graces
have become
a hundred years
from getting back
eighteen more
than then
pages bent
against me in the back
roads I know
from walking home
slower
than the sun

seasons not
the heavier
for counting

. . .

whispers to lace ~

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savingme

of moments
I’ve known
a path through
the tears
a faint recollection
of days unto years
poetry carved
as rings to
the wood
of seasons and reasons
tethered to place
come as a lover
of longing embrace
as nights without
slumber
whispers
to lace

silence the same
as forgetting

some other
another
of dreaming I knew
the weight of remember
was passing me
through
noonday and were you
to hold me
like this
as a moment of always
burned to a kiss
lest living
come easy
as light on the morn
as wake to the keeping
was love
to discern

. . .

nights between ~

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where'erIgo

what name
was once you called to me
echoes o’er the storm
a distant light
unshaken by these memories
of home
a part of all that mattered
is forgiveness settled round
in tireless waves
the ways we were
before again abound
the sweetest blossoms
scattered
as breath in silence still
remains of wishes
traded
another place to fill
a lullaby forgotten
though not for comfort lent
as days I lost
ten thousand more between
counted from a distance
roads and stars
the same
paths converge
within the fault
of dreams

. . .

bucket list ~

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blush

The exercise seemed cathartic, meant to pull something far deeper than dreams from the participants. Create a bucket list. Easy enough I suppose, although not as easy as it might be to those with less distance left of the road.

But there was nothing I could think of, nothing worthy of such a contract with the universe. Surely, in putting words to paper, there becomes an invisible thread (a map) connecting now to the future, this to another.

There was nothing I needed to do.

Subsequent discussions debated the matter – a half empty bucket or a bucket half full.

Mine, admittedly, is a bucket overflowing – not big enough to hold what I already have, what I have already known. Even of my sorrows, I would not sacrifice a one for the preceding joy, negating a moment of anguish, loss or indecision.

It is the nothing (everything) variable of love. To love; to be loved. What else could there be? If I climbed Everest, what value those words on stone? Would that be the thing for which I would linger? A memory of sorts that speaks more to my endurance than to my endearing.

Nothing.

Nothing more than to love – to be loved. To empty the bucket time and again until there is no time….

Leaving behind only a bucket never (ever) quite emptied.

. . .

where yesterday the moon ~

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of mornings
every one
is still a mystery
to me
breaking from
the shadows
where yesterday
the moon
perched outside
my window
in stoic reverie
a confidante
deserving
of a wish
reserved for stars
a voyeur
unaccustomed
to my shame
confessed in shades
of lavender
sheets where warmed
the dawn
awakened by
the memory
of dreams

. . .

sometimes (waiting to be) ~

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findme1

I’ll stay
here beside
if you start the fire
from pieces remembered
the same
another so cold
you thought I was leaving
back through the days
undecided
I came

led by a dream
fearful of nothing
but the loss
of your warmth
in the night
the feel of your whisper
echoed in silence
returned from the edges
I waited your light

to save me
from something
darker than death
deeper than sorrows
I’ve known
the way your smile shines
when you wrap me
around
a moment of tender
willing me home

where love is made
welcome
by a hand holding mine
promise
waiting to be
forever surrendered
just before dawn –
a kiss
then another
remembering
me

. . .

known by love ~

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cc5

sweeter now
the ache forgiving
of moments past –
surround me here
an ancient quilt
of almost whispers –
words of living
folded near

page to page
as wish to wanting
lives beyond the ones
we live
songs forgotten
yield in singing
love resounds
in all we give

let with grace
these truths repeated
til prayer becomes
a place of rest
warmed by faith’s
eternal season
known by love –
as love
confessed

. . .

heartbeats aligned ~

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cc2

is the measure of grace
a verse without rhyme
a solitude born
of the staying

a path I remembered
would bring me to here
held by a breath
to your memory

a life before this
was love unaware
the weaving of dreams
into moments
one day

we sat in the still
at the edge of goodbye
sharing the truth
of how the stars shine
and where the wind goes
taking pieces of us

unafraid of the keeping
allowing for love
as heartbeats
aligned
to the passing of days

as birth unto light
a heaven intended
to look for us here
in the fold
of always –

a reason
we came
released in the letting –
as verse without
rhyme

. . .

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