Thursday, July 14, 2011

One Feeling

I don't make sense.
     I'm simple and complex
          all at
               the same

I love with a Fire that Consumes
     but can retreat
          into Coldness
               more biting than
                    Frosty Steel Rails.

I am independent and ambitious,
     but terribly naive
         and Timid
               especially beyond
                    Brick Walls.

I want to know your story and share mine,
     but the Truth haunts me and bends me
          to Misery.

And I say that I'd rather be
     Miserably Aware
          than Blissfully Ignorant,

But following my Passions often leads to
     Less Awareness,
          not More.

And in this whirlwind of Complication,
     your presence is as a candle Flame,
          Constant and
               Unassailed by Doubt.

But what if that is merely an Illusion?
     And Flickering is just beyond
          the Horizon,
               Preparing to Commence Again?

I don't Know how to tell you to keep the Candle alight,
     only Promise you that my Passion,
          once ignited,
               Rages without Trepidation
                    Into the long Night.

Scared to say how I feel?
          more terrified to Feel it,
               and in It,
                    be Lost ...
                         With no Recourse!

... Other than to Trust You ...
     and trust is running from me
          faster than I can catch Her ...
               never had the Wings to fly in the face of Truth,
                    And see Trust as Neverending.

To me It appears a Phantom,
     Something I may never catch,
          or stare in the Face,
                Or even Embrace.

You want Truth of Feeling?
     Well, here it IS:

* I only have one
*It's been trampled upon
*I miss you every night, every morning, and every interminable day
*It breaks my Heart when you are Away
*I want your arms around me when I fall asleep at night
*I want you to stay
*My fragile Trust thinks that everything about you is Right
*I want you to act as a Knight, virtuous and right, and, for me, fight

In ALL of these things,
      I am sure ...
          If this feeling Continues,
                    Love will Always Endure.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

MY Beauty

My beauty is for myself ...
            I cannot give it away
            Nor can it be contained
                        or caged in any way

My beauty is unbidden
            I do not bring it to the surface or into the light
            It wells up like a tear in a well-controlled eye.

My beauty is possessive
            It wraps and twists around every
                                    inch of you
            It does not let go - and entraps the most fortified wills.

My beauty suffers
            But only by the hands of others.
                        who warp and miss the simplest
                                    the simplest
            Of dreams, until they are just floating
                        like dandelion bits in the wind.

My beauty outshines
            That of all those around me
                        until tormented, they hate
                                    And abuse, and slither away. 
                        It seems they can not take the contest
                                    with the grain of salt through which
                                                they see the rest of the world.

My beauty captivates
            the animal - whether human or other creature,
                        male or female,
                                    of lesser or greater mind.
                        It spars with their senses
                                    until they give way
                                                to the rapture that follows

My beauty does not allow me
            to see through rose-colored glasses
                        or taste the bitterness all around me.
                                    It allows no censure of the sounds permeating
            the soft atmosphere that tactile exploration affords me.
                        Regardless of the dirt existing in every crevice,
                                    my beauty allows no clutter of the mind,
                        because though there be thorns,
                                    the roses that I forge smell quite lovely.