Anxious,

Like a spider dangling from a string,

Blowing two and fro,

Not really knowing why so anxious,

But knowing why so anxious,

Because I'm waiting on you.

Lying in softness,
a taut feeling spreading within,
lingering insecurities,
making me come alive.

An unfamiliar friend,
I could have never anticipated,
encroaching again,

Sheltering thoughts that restlessly stay,
I reached into the darkness,
searching desperately for the right way,

But, the power was out.

Feeling the chaos all around,
it suffocates me,
I am scared,
needing my own sanctuary.

A familiar touch,
a comforting voice,
Whispering in my ear,
"It will be alright, I am here, where I will stay,"
suddenly the heaviness would melt away.

Wrap me in a sweet stare,
how it would soothe the heart,
ease the mind,
Just to feel that kind of care,
Kind of care,
just  for me.

A walk along the pebbled path,
searching for one whose passed.
Earth, stone, and death,
nearing the marble unkempt.

What to do but stare,
peering into the nothing there.
No breath, no flesh, no words, nor sounds,
merely what is left deep underground.

Why does this ritual ease the soul,
there must be a happier place to go.
Somewhere to feel the love that is,
It is not too far away to look within.

Safely there your memory remains,
as it will till I am no more.
Embracing you there relieves the pain,
feeling your energy is what the heart beats for.

Remembering your eyes, smiles, and words,
give me peace for you.
You are always loved,
and never forgotten.

Stillness overcomes me,
I am immobile.

Imbedded secretly inside,
Like a pearl lost in the deep blue.

Precious and pure,
Forever entombed amidst the shale.

Discovery requires will,
Will requires desire.

In a dim room lined with reflection,
I wait,

Glimpses of the haunts,
flashes of affections,
always uncertain,
undoubtedly late.

Assurances are relished,
in this tomb of doom,
Past relics embellished,
shined again and again.

Penitence for me,
Fearing time served,
will eternally loom.

A great many of us want,
We don't know the whole of it,
Yet, we feel, sense, feel more,
And we want.

We write our words,
Sing our sounds,
Paint the pictures of our insides,
For others to see,
And we want.

We are here,
And much of what we want, is there,
Impatient, we wait, while we feel it so near,
And we want.