Writing is a narcissistic practice.

What do we aim to accomplish
when we touch ink to paper?
Mark something down in eternity,
plaster our thoughts upon and into
being so that they may be recognized,
acknowledged.
Sort through them as we would
a scattered mess of notes.

There is nothing inherently wrong with narcissism,
no matter what people may have you believe.
I've once thought so,
cycled around to the present,
and, perhaps, will go full circle multiple times.
It is in our nature.
We think so much about ourselves.

The only constant is our thoughts
is their inconsistency
so we seek to immortalize them while we can.

We are not our thoughts;
we are the sum of everything within us
when our thoughts have settled and left and
we are empty.

Think your thoughts,
write them if you must,
then set them on fire.

To love,
      surety sure as the sky is blue
blue as any and all warmth
           of colored skin
true as truth on the lips
             of statues
of red lipstick on a rough chin
                  strong
as stronger hangs from steel
          taller skyscapes
and mountain limbs
            deep
deeper than a long call of
            an eagle soaring down
to her mate falling, falling
                  around down
down to almost crash
          but see
the seas as the blue rush crash
               on white sands beauty of
naked skin
                and hues of
sunlit scenes
                      in your bronze
brown skin your eyes,
    To love: In more brevity...
is all there is!

✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿

where the most importance resides on
the meadow
rise
in apparent
glaring
I saw
her eyes.

from the first moment I met him
I knew we sang the same song,
I watched from a distance
with loving eyes
staying his friend
all along

took several decades and wrong turns where
until I found that there
her being life
an angel you might call
her, yet flesh and blood,
and heart
and soul  so much
in tune with my
song.

I loved him    from afar
his caring heart, his loving soul
I kept a distance but, stayed near
giving love, encouragement, and hope
when I could sense his fear.

my lungs called her name for many years
sang out searching for her eyes
and did not know she had been
answering
all the time
along
in
away
I refused to hear.

I always heard his song
I sang back
never loud enough to be heard
and in my heart I would long.
I’d step back many times
but  
his song
would always draw me near,
I knew then that I would sing
until the combined melodies
he would hear.
Then one night melodies sang
calling song
answering
calling song….

And now,
like newness and hope and heaven
we sing together!

                      ✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿

It’s the way
you know every word
my heart
has always yearned to hear
and when
we rest our heads on a pillow
you whisper
them all in my ear
and when
you place my hand in yours
my soul
leaps for joy and just knows
that we’ll
soar as high as heaven
leaving this earthly world below.
It’s the way
I hear the song of angels
and how
I feel the earth move beneath me
as my head
rests upon your heart
it’s in that melody
ringing with every kiss
as our lips unwillingly part.
And as I look
deep into your eyes
I can feel my tears welling
joyful tears
full of love and grace
for the love I see dwelling.
The greatest part
of knowing love
is not just the feelings you know true
but looking
deep into another’s eyes
and seeing
love looking back at you.
~