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archives .05 – forgetful painter

I can spend a thousand minutes
caressing you with my brush,
and though tomorrow you will again   be
a blank canvas
I will paint you again another way
perhaps remembering
perhaps forgetting
your beauty at this magical moment.

You have spent a lifetime
caressing me with your fingers,
and though tomorrow I will again   be
dust
You will mold me again in another form
always remembering
always forgetting
my beauty and ugliness at this magical moment.

archives .04 – dancing and loving

Can you even imagine what it would feel
to be both joyous and downcast at the same moment?

I have seen this in two instances: God and my son.

Myself, I have been with flame or ice from one moment to the next,
but the fire melts the ice
and the ice tames the fire.

The human heart is capable of truly wonderous things.
We use it so little, and then when we do, we use it for so little.
If you want to expand and be God-size within,
put on hold all your spinning and bowing,
and even if I dare say your praying;
let your heart explore each and everything
your eye sees
your nose smells
your ears record
your tongue tastes
the hands caress
and let it be filled with many things of love and war.

Then, once your pounding heart has opened your ribs
so wide you could swallow the universe –
go on spinning and bowing and praying and you will find yourself
soon enough
dancing and loving in the sand

archives .03 – closely apart

We have been apart today.Yet just a single thought –
a moment of remembrance …

We were together all day today
hand in hand;
see when we hoped together
for some sticky strand
to catch a breeze
and meet another
and how we laughed and sighed
when at last it happened!

Yes, I agree that you had much more fun than I.
While the breeze blew I resisted and you did not
and so we did not meet each other.

Now, though, let recollection succumb to imagination –
how we danced as we do now
so that no one but we ourselves
know that there is more than one of Us.

archives .02 – before there was anything

before there was anything there was You
and i was not – but i was
for in Your Love came all that is – even i.
and Your Love has no before.
thus, though i was yet – Your Love for me was,
and in this: i was by Your Love.but now that i know: i know i am.
and all i see is now my is.
yet, all that is seen came after You.
and You are Love; thus – Love is unseen.may i not i live by eyes,
but by as i: was by Your Love before came sight
now as then – by Love i am,
by You i am, or i am not.

archives .01 – a hymn for the hesitant

Reach these fingers sweet drip of crescent
For morrow’s breath sighs today’s hope petition.
Exhale ye hyssop, and play temptress to thy mate,
Lest avalanche steal the still of thy heart,
And consuming passion wither to Impotence’ chill.Whence comest thy fret, thence whet by her sting?
From lyre of venom plays Venus’ prized melody,
Should sent cherub Cupid’s thorn stray to Helena
While Hermia remains virgin to pierce of love’s kiss.
So silence stay thy lips as shadow be turned.

Cease such decay though flame licketh nigh,
Since grave may be fort’ and winter thieve life!
As watch becomes rigor, so grasp unfolds dreamscape,
And fantasy hedged solely by denial of thine youth.
Yet here’s tomorrow’s form – clay in thy talons.