You are not the gap
but the
Connection.

Two pine trees swaying
In the wind like dancers
And the old walnut
Broke

The almond tree stands
in full bloom
looking at you
not saying
a word
of apology

A whirlwind
silver streams
returning

On the peak of
Mount Kailash
emerges a hand
pulling Herself up
joining
the Dance
for good

How come the snow burns
holes in my hand today?
How come it turns not
into water?

Let's go and
cause
a riot

Eyes burning
heart yearning
for something
to hold

In moments when I do perceive myself as
Other
Than myself I sometimes am
Truly freaked out about it

The flame of Self-respect burns
and no-one can turn it down
but yourself

Les yeux...

No: eyes that pierce my heart
and - sorry for poetic nonsense - drive
sharp darts into me

Eyes that do close exclusively at night
when mine do so, as well

Eyes that - I wish it wasn't so -
exist with double weight and double size
only in my imagination, in my vain, god-forsaken brain!

Eyes -

One second, love, I need to concentrate
I need to memorise -
Do not distract me so - do not...

Ah no!
This is the same **** thing, the same **** pair
of home made lies

I'd rather not part this time, though.
No - I would rather stay.

But look (I look), why don't we keep in touch,
or stay, as we have always been, apart: but one?

For I can say that much:

an aching heart is half as painful
if it knows that it is aching.

for then it also knows
the nicer part

the pain that equals
love.

A soft night waiting
for the nearing morning
charged
with gentle confidence
with quiet
inevitable joy

The heart simply
Knows
While the mind is busy
Coding and decoding

The heart patiently
Waits for the mind
To adjust to its
Rhythmic beat

The sky was
so blue I
remember lying
on my back next
to you
by the beach
And this is the most
simple poem and yet
the most
true
I love you
honey

Singleheartedness,
says the lion,
Is when your eyes
automatically dissect
true words from false ones
And detect the
blind spots
in hearts

♥
smarter than some poeple
think.

better than a night without
a drink.

better yet,
and still I will forget
this wonderous tale as soon
as I-Phone five
sends its betrayal
to the precursor.

We're all born
butterflies
and just disguise
as caterpillars
until the time
has come

❦

Some days
Everything
Hurts
And there's nothing
To make it go
Away because
Going away is
Exactly what
It had to do
All the time

"Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense"

Robert Frost, *Mending Wall

My Fingertips touch
the Sky and stretch
so much
it hurts
My feet are glued
so strongly to the
ground
shoot roots so deep
into the Earth
that everything
inside of me

now melts

with no regrets.