Circles of dreams
           tender shoots
reaching out
          into the night
my arms
          wind around
your frame
          my spirit
wisps about your
            essence      
your sanctuary
           unfolding
out to me
          so freely
you give me
        your lightness
and hold mine
         into you
we extend
        our boldness        
and I feel
blessed
        to be a part
of this union
so ready for
         the celestial force
the pinnacle
of lifeflow
         blood rushing          
in ears as
my veins connect
to earth as roots
       and then suddenly,
in this
mineral tenacity
of sound,
         I rise

My girl stands beneath a snow encrusted mountain top

Another place, another world, some others perfect winter paradigm

The morning sun breaking through, lighting her hair, her eyes, her smile,

The cold now invisible, as the warmth of her glow is captured in permanence

A vision of my mind so clear, yet of a time since past, a moment lived but now lost

For now she sleeps so soundly in her bed, in her room, one so unknown to me

Are its walls, cream, white, pink or blue, is it just a room or is it truly a room of you

How can we know so much abstraction and yet know so little of tangible things,

And does anyone ever really know the real you, the real me or is life just too fleeting, too fast

And that’s what I wonder as I lie here, while my body aches and my mind races ill at ease,

Taking my only solace in Angelika and of a time since passed wrapped up in a blanket of snow.

Christ, it's not like we were really even fighting.
I had teased you, hit a nerve sure, but we'd been there before.
Stop being such a ***** you said, and of course you were right but could i stop?
Could i ****, not without my last card to play and yet that card had been lost
That fateful morning , two weeks last Thursday

And oh how different that  had played out.
Both lying there, still warm from the previous nights glow.
Bodies entwined as i leaned and whispered for the first time that I love you.
But as a lost child of the counter culture, you had just laughed and asked me to *******.
That fateful morning, two weeks last Thursday

So it was there that our dream had died, or mine at least.
And in its place spawned this cold bitter wounded male pride.
Intent on a destruction,  camouflaged as salvation as it reeked it's callous revenge
All for what?, some selfish need to hear those three little words.
That fateful morning, two weeks last Thursday

And now fourteen years later and so much having passed.
Would you recognise me now, would you care, would you just laugh.
At how I've become all that we swore and promised that we never would.
And yet it's me that's left thinking of you, of us and all that was lost.
That fateful morning, two weeks last Thursday