Waiting for you is divine intervention.  

Like waiting for the world to turn.
Like waiting for a comet to return.
Like waiting for a star to be born.
Like waiting for the planets to align.

But I know that, eventually, you'll be here.
And that's what keeps waiting.

Crazy, insane, she thought she was
And the asylum collapsed
As a dilapidated one does

The death too strong
The pain too near,
Yet at the funeral she cried not
one tear.

She met a boy,
with accent strong.
And his curly brown hair
seemed not too long.

With his crooked smile
And perfect teeth,
She could feel herself wavering,
Becoming weak.

They both had dark secrets
Yet told one another,
But only at the necessity
Of rescuing her brother.

Some time has passed
Yet she sees him again
the one she used to call her old
Boyfriend.

Was this a hallucination?
Some PTSD?
"Or is this him standing
in front of me?"

We wish for words to work with us
to enter and leave as we believe all religioins are
And touch and taste are never disappointed
and the weather is always October

I Love for love to liven the colors of conversations to
bright red and crinkling silver
and tomes of poetry are hand delivered to the bored.  
Toys are no longer just for children
and everyone prefers candlelight to cinema
and Time finally admits its accompliceship to God.  

I weather words well for a kettle *** rung with flavored tongue.

In a far off land
Unknown to most
Lies a tilted City
On a dull grey coast

High on the rocks
Before the sea foam
Sat the ancient town
That none called home

No one inhabited
Its stone brick walls
Its little hovels
or dinning halls

I decided to explore
In the settlements wake
But as the night drew near
The ground began to quake

I slowly approached
Its time worn gate
And opened the city
As the hour drew late

Far off down the street
I noticed a light
That gently pierced the dark
Of this distant lands night

Making my way
Through the cobbled streets
I found an old sign
Written cursive and neat

As I read through its words
All I could understand
Was the town's name of Sur
The only in the land

Through the streets I walked
Past the houses and stores
Whose doors were all locked
And whose lights shone no more

But as I came to the square
Where the three roads meet
I was met by a strange
Yet pleasant heat

For a fire roared
In the center pit
But no one was there
By whom it was lit

As I stood in the square
I heard many a sound
Uttered from above
Beneath and around

It sounded as though
The town was alive
As it softly hummed
Rose and dived

I sat in this place
Til' the end of my years
Yet when I was gone
Still my voice you could hear

Emotion can overtake and devotion can motivate,
We all want to know our fate until approaching the Holy gates,
Watching affection fade can lead to pretty lonely days
Not knowing our seconds are being thrown away, and so we wait.

Sensation can blind us, but phrases can guide us,
The cadence may fade but the sayings are timeless,
Some 'bravest' are spineless, some 'brainless' are brightest,
The making's expensive but the painting is priceless,

Passion enhances through passionate glances,
Life is controlling, we're just practising aren't we?

Love is the first time you sleep with a face full of hair and don't care,
you're just grateful she's there.
It's all the emotion you're able to bear, so beware;
nobody said it was graceful or fair.

Love is unprepared to be rushed but a touch is barely enough,
and since you don't dare to give up, there is the rub.
She'll put her hair in a bun and rip the air from your lungs,
And you can feel your blood pumping like the scariest drum.

Love is it all, it's the bricks and the wall,
it's the stick and the ball, the listen and call,
The dismissal of any and all critical thought, but what is it overall?
it's the bridge metaphor and the physical fall.

Love is when you travel to the farthest of lands over mountains, marshes and sands.
It's artistry, grand, feeling your hearts swelling as large as they can,
hearing your arteries bang,
and being there to hold the cane inside the palm of her hand.

Love is transcending genders and age, to the 'benders' and 'gays',
finding an effortless way through the prejudiced plague.
Ask any men, they will say that it led them astray,
from the gentlest phrase to the mentalist, caged,

Love is the first time you sleep with a face full of hair and don't care,
you're just grateful he's there,
It's all the emotion you're able to bear, so beware.

Nobody said it was graceful or fair.