Time
Ever-flowing
Like the river it pulls everything

Space
Ever-expanding
Of supernovas and pulsars

Gravity
It matters. It is.
It is, beyond time and space

But love
Love, is everything.
No matter the time and space

Like you
Ever-orbiting
Bringing night and day
Pulsating the seas
Super, ecliptical or crescent.

You
Ever-present
Behind clouds
Or on the other side
Strong, relentlesss and beautiful.

Yes you

You are still waters that run deep;

a challenge some may say.

But to me, your closed emotions

are like a test to see



if I can crack you open.



You're not one to spill your secrets

yet every time we talk

whether it be cellular device

or heart to heart in person

I notice



(for intrinsically I notice everything hidden and important not seen with the naked eye)



I notice you slip

some of your most shielded

vulnerabilities

and I catch them

with soft cold hands



(because for some reason or other my hands are always cold)



with soft cold hands warmed

by your toasty rough ones warmed

by your sensible muttering warmed

by your discreet aspirations warmed by your witty attitude.



I like that we can be waggish

together like two jesters

high strung.



My facetious view on life is somewhat wrought with doubt.



My senseless family drama scaling backwards for months on end.

Return is what I want; a sense of peacefulness whereas I'm pulled into the flighty nature of my parents' inconsistencies and my aunts' finicky nature when all I want is for everyone to get along.



You have your barriers drawn and  sometimes and I don't mind it.



We are emotional opposites, bouncing off each other like ping pong balls, but in this scenario it works because we've both got paddles and are willing to play.



That's what I see in you.

An ever-eager possibility;

passionate in your politics,

loyal to your friends,

leader in some circumstances

when I am at a loss for words.



And you spark a sort of electric chord within me, plugging right into my frontal lobe, sparking my interest, lighting up my receptors.



My neurons have never been this happy before; I have never in my life had a romantic reciprocal relationship like this before.



Nothing has prepared me for this.

This floundering of feelings, sloppy, spilling, leaking out of the cauldron every time we speak.



You are boiling broth, a frothy drink I've put up to my lips and sipped from, a drink I did not order but delightful all the same.



You are still waters that run deep;

a sensual spice of parsley or dill that can lighten up any dish;

and it doesn't take a genius to see how much I need a person like you in my life to challenge every predisposition of romance I've seen, read, fantasized or imagined.



Caught in the slipstream of figuring out my future after the new year has yet to arrive. There's still so much to work out; there's still so much hope I have brimming inside me even after my confessions, even after I've asked for forgiveness and complacency.



Where there's hope and forgiveness, there's also peace.



Maybe all it took was the repetition of swimming pools in dreams this past week to understand where I stand. I'm not drowning anymore.

I'm on the edge of the pool looking into clear waters, finding the wise guide of my blue water dragon

and his humongous whiskered face

staring straight at me, into me, telling me that I have all the strength I need to overcome the obstacles. I need not cling to fear any longer. I need not hide away, like I've done in the past, behind thick curtains to blot out the light.



My only constant now is the sun rising and the moon waning.



You are still waters that run deep;

a sure-bound belief



that everything will be okay.

How slow the swan glides
down the darkening river
twisting its sleek, slithering neck
away from the sunshine-
saying nothing.
In the morning
only ducks drive through the water
only voles snake along the banks.

#rivers   #swan   #quietude  
SoulSurvivor
SoulSurvivor
Dec 31, 2016

time
passes
slowly
  in the
          rivers  
                 of space
                      the Lord
                   sets His
            finger
to move
and to
     trace
the path
where            
we're  
going
         the path  
where
we've
          been  
he sees
                  us groaning
                              from when
                         life begins
but when
              we have passed
             it is then
we will see
      the rivers we've
               sailed through
toward our
           destiny
                     and when
           we have seen
all the deadfalls
and snares                  
we'll know He's                    
been with us        
           through    
all of our
cares
             and once
                  we have
                           seen this
                    push come to
shove
we'll know
His great
mercy
and
sing
for
His


LOVE



SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/30/2016

I'm arranging for New Year's Eve.
I'm having a small party
to celebrate the new year.
I can't say that I've made any
New Year's resolutions,
but I know i want to
spend more quality time
with the Lord.
He has helped me through the
holidays, which are always
very rough for me.
I also want to be more active
on this site, and Facebook.
Spend more time with you.
Even when I was not on site
I thought of, and prayed for
you often.
As we go through the
rivers of space
we encounter some people
who've set the course of
change in our lives.
I could definitely say that
many of you have done so for me.

Thank you!
May God bless you all!
#life   #heart   #god   #space   #strength   #rivers   #soul   #jesus   #grateful   #hellopoetry107  
George Krokos
May 20, 2013

The rivers of the world all tend to flow toward the sea
and the love of the lover with the beloved longs to be.
In merging and uniting the sense of separateness does disappear;
the feeling of oneness is the experience that removes all our fear.
_________________

From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
#love   #lover   #rivers   #sea   #sense   #experience   #beloved   #oneness   #merging  
Charlie Hazels
Charlie Hazels
Nov 5, 2016

Should be crying but I want to laugh
And dance in glee
Where are my tears?
The rivers are dry and the sun beats down

#sad   #dance   #cry   #happy   #rivers   #laugh   #dry   #mourn   #celebrate   #notears  
Underland
Underland
Oct 5, 2016

Why is it so hard to destroy beautiful things?
They aren't innocent.
Not always.
They can be cruel.
Like a poisonous flower,
Or a rushing river.
They are beautiful and we admire them from afar,
But getting too close is dangerous.
It could end you.
But why not end it first?
Pull the flower like its a weed.
Stop the river's flow like it's a gutter.
But we can't.
And why not?
Because it's beautiful,
And there are so few beautiful things left in the world.
So we fight for them,
And we protect them,
Even if they are deadly,
Because they are all we have left.
And if there was no beauty,
No horrible, deadly, beauty,
What would we live for?

#world   #flowers   #beauty   #destroy   #poison   #rivers   #cruel   #horror   #deadly   #protect  
Glass
Glass
Oct 3, 2016

you made it rain
happiness
as the stars
sung tears of joy
even though
darkness lied ahead
you fought them for me
leaving rivers of memories
as my veins became mere
highways

#words   #memories   #dark   #rain   #darkness   #rivers   #emotion   #veins   #highways  
Sara Fielder
Sara Fielder
Sep 16, 2016

In Southern Comfort she flows along,
her swirling current of water
a stream of muddy river songs
rising
ebbing
flowing
throughout history and
a graveyard of industry.
Back then,
when Huckleberry Finns
went wading in with bamboo poles
and steam queens paddled by
in antebellum style,
the wooden wheel marking time each
turn
turn
turn
preserving a place in the memory burn
that good folk never forget.
Beginnings and endings progressing
toward a more is more corp
of engineers who through the years
built levees to sway direction
against her power of intention.
Still, she goes bending and
winding where she wants
smelling like catfish and boiled potatoes

Written by Sara Fielder © June 2012

#rivers  
Thomas Sparrow
Sep 16, 2016

The Sheepscot’s always changing.
The tide comes in.
The tide goes out.
The sun comes up.
The sun goes down.
The fog rolls in.
The fog blows out.
The Sheepscot’s ever changing.

The Sheepscot’s always changing.
Lobster boats come.
Lobster boats go.
They haul the traps .
The throw them back.
The sailboats tack.
The sailboats jibe.
The Sheepscot’s ever changing.

The Sheepscot’s always changing.
The people come.
The people go.
The seasons come.
The seasons go.
The centuries come.
The centuries go.
The Sheepscot’s ever changing.

 
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