You and I
Holding onto different
Strings following different
Pathways sharing different
Dreams living different
Worlds

Yet how did we knot our strings together
Intersect and walk the same path together
Find our dreams in each other
Met in between and saw what truly mattered?

Love.

My grandpa
             Words he gave
                            To me once upon a full moon
“Son” he said
            “When you go into this life”
“Remember, that love is a language “
             “So find, my son, find someone”
                     “Who speaks your language “
      “So you don’t have to translate your soul”
                                   Hmmm.

In love with sleep
In love with books
In love with pillows and blankets that protect me from the
harsh and cruel outside world


Oh, and of course --

In love with you.

Time is a trickster;
the ticking clock: its vicious heart.
It impregnates.
It destroys.
It heals.
It unravels.
It dons the skin of an imposter
in the coldest stretch of night:
a magician weaving fantasies
that sear.
Neutralize.
Inspire.
Though I wonder--
I worry--
are the days too long?
Are the nights too dim
and fleeting?
Do I dance through each
crescendo
in a lurid,
patchwork nightmare?
Or are my dreams so full of pain,
that soon,
I'll shatter beneath them
and finally wake up?