May 2015
If I am waiting, why not now I ask?
Must I receive your elegance in a slowly introduced doses, simply not to overdose on that of which is your perfection?
If I am waiting, what defines my love to be that of the tangible,
an idea shaped and distorted horribly in my own head?
I’m always that of a time keeper, counting the intervals between the dials of each millimeter between the second markers on the grandfather clock, stretched into a string of ever-expanding infinity.
A line that over laps beyond comprehension, builds that of dimension, time and space, we come colliding!
Yes we do, we always do, if one thing I can count on, it is this.
We are that of every love, repetitive but never stagnant, ever shifting, ever changing, just… beauty in the bell jar.
Captured mid second, frozen in time, in a place
where we meet simply by chance, I will live that of a billion lives, if not for anything more then just one single chance.
I would put my mind in every living creature that has echoed before me, along side me, and will continue to do so long after I depart.
I will short end a fuse to a bomb there for springing a chain reaction, surging convulsions of electricity that only then could even conceive to recognize that of which is my own consciousness!
The purity in the moment of coincidence that takes place when we meet.
That of a flutter of a butterflies wings, the rippling effect of said butterfly.
We are and forever will be locked in sight, because I believe, oh how I believe-
And does my pinky hurt so with the tug of this red string leading me to that of which is you.
It was never a safe path I admit but one for the likes of the profound and the brave.
To build me up, to break me down!
I follow this red string and endure every challenge the gods deem fit for my conditioning.
Because on the other side of that red string is you, and when I say.. It just had to be you….
Theses lives we live, these perceptions we carry, the sounds of music pleasing to the ear, and the books we read that make our eyes soar.
I find myself here in a pool of my own tears dabbed with a sense of poetic justice and as this unusual shade of blue, oh that unusual shade of blue that car bared that day in it’s paint.
The whoosh and whirr of the engine roaring so silently but valiantly, if not to be a that of a last act effort to simply warn me of the moment I’ve been waiting for only my entire existence.
That sound it couldn’t reach my ears in any plausible way but somehow I knew when my eyes were lifted by that passing shade of an unusual blue that was that of a fleeting glimpse of scenery.
My alerts were called to attention, if not just to gaze and check the progression that time has had around me.
So tell me what is the chance of a million chances if not one but of infinitely shifting possibilities and interchanging ideas, what is the chance, that my eyes met with yours that day?
When that car that was painted an unusual shade of blue passed on by in an explosion of fate and destiny.
I bet you the driver of that car didn’t even know how important his role in fate & destiny was that day, what leads me to you that of which was of an odd and unusual shade of blue.
My attentions were called to this date, this second, this very moment, and as I become aware of my shifting surroundings, in the fog of the overwhelming take in of absolutely everything…
I see you, with a voice soft and elegant, hair stained with mystery of time, a face, oh she has a face! with eyes the ones I dream only to stare into until the ends of time, a mouth with lips I can only compare to the soft touch of velvet, and the skin I rub the back of my hand on to check if you have a fever….
For time is not that of restraint, because some part of me knows the whoa of your ever lasting echo.
your existence is so potent with fragrance.
I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when I cried for first the very first time fresh out of my mother’s womb, I cried with the worst feeling I had ever felt, to be born into a world where we have yet to meet.
Almost as if the Angels of oblivion “shh”ed me of the knowledge of the love I will come to know, but I am left with this eternal void with a depth so great it is beyond any means of measurement.
Oh the sorrow that moans, alone and riddled, all the time that is infinitely expanding, tick tocking, and slipping into the future ever so slightly.
Between my short spark of existence and yours was a magnet that chose you and I to be intertwined in the fibers that are the forevers of time.. When I found you.
Because some part of me knows the whoa of your echo, I’ve always known.
Your existence is so potent with fragrance, I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when we first touched you awakened me with the familiarity of that fragrance which I already somehow knew, but never really could put my finger on the idea.
The “I’m home” that rushed over me, the forevers in beckoning, chiming to a melody of birds singing in joy, with the hormones of spring in full roar, an ode to the time keeper himself when I say.. I only want more time with you….
The beauty that lies in that moment is the realization, that I can wait, though I rather not.
Because I can feel you echoing in the fibers of my existence crying out to be found and awakened, and oh am I searching in the eyes of every love that ever fell short.
Only in failed attempt to capture the essence that is you.
Because you just know, you’ve always known, our souls calls out and little do our increasingly limiting minds know, the storm you will have on me..
The desert inside me screaming with drought, and your existence quenches my souls thirst.
I know my heart strings would snap if my life wasn’t that of a mosaic to be built upon just for you.
The time I spent in solidarity, the desolation grew inside me, so I seek, I look, and sometimes I make mistakes, but my heart belongs to you and only you, the women with hair that is stained with the mystery of time….
WHEN will you come out of your shadows, WHERE will I be, WHAT decisions must I make to perfectly aline my life to one day run into you by that of simply chance, and oh I’ve said it a million time but WHY must I wait?
It is nothing short of crippling to know that of which is on the line, I can feel your vibrations more than ever now if not before, and I see the flame that lights the wic of this candle burning method that is my soul.
I let go, and I trust fate and destiny because they hold something of great important to me, and dare if I forsake it, they might just make me not be able to find my keys the day I’m supposed to run into you by that of chance, and I need to be able to find those keys oh so desperately.
So I say “praise the lords of time!” and I swear on my existence if that of which is not meaningless, that you give me meaning, in every way, shape and form.
You are that of winters mid day, you are that of a summer sunset, you’re the smell of a never before opened book, you are the melody that catches my ear every time.
Because you were always there for every single living being if not just me, you were always there, and I will meet you in all the lives I live, because with hope there is a way, and sure there may be dead ends, and forsaken ending, but where I survive, where I live another day, where I see through the eyes of which is mortal, I will devote my effort to search for you my love…
The unspoken beauty of always knowing when I say.. “when I get married” “when I have children” “when I die she will be the last face I see” we and myself including say these things these silly things as if life is to viewed as a promise.
With ever so fragile existences, we die a thousand times if only just to meet once.
Even with our own fragile existences thrown in the balance reality forces the idea that we are a pointless specs in all that is nothing, and I spit at that idea, I spit to it!
Because when I say those things I’m putting my trust in the fact that some day I just know we will meet….
Maybe we will be lucky and find ourselves in park as children and form a love in the shine of innocence that grows like a hundred year old oak tree.
Or if we meet in a place as old as time itself with that smile only to be lighted with a hint of embarrassment showing on your rose red cheeks and that look on your face filled with rush and panic, only to be becoming of you, a sense of urgency floods when you say, when you always say, what you have said so many times before, and will continue to say in the whoas of forever… “I’m sorry I was late.” And I will always return with “it was worth the wait…”
Must I receive your elegance in a slowly introduced doses, simply not to overdose on that of which is your perfection?
If I am waiting, what defines my love to be that of the tangible,
an idea shaped and distorted horribly in my own head?
I’m always that of a time keeper, counting the intervals between the dials of each millimeter between the second markers on the grandfather clock, stretched into a string of ever-expanding infinity.
A line that over laps beyond comprehension, builds that of dimension, time and space, we come colliding!
Yes we do, we always do, if one thing I can count on, it is this.
We are that of every love, repetitive but never stagnant, ever shifting, ever changing, just… beauty in the bell jar.
Captured mid second, frozen in time, in a place
where we meet simply by chance, I will live that of a billion lives, if not for anything more then just one single chance.
I would put my mind in every living creature that has echoed before me, along side me, and will continue to do so long after I depart.
I will short end a fuse to a bomb there for springing a chain reaction, surging convulsions of electricity that only then could even conceive to recognize that of which is my own consciousness!
The purity in the moment of coincidence that takes place when we meet.
That of a flutter of a butterflies wings, the rippling effect of said butterfly.
We are and forever will be locked in sight, because I believe, oh how I believe-
And does my pinky hurt so with the tug of this red string leading me to that of which is you.
It was never a safe path I admit but one for the likes of the profound and the brave.
To build me up, to break me down!
I follow this red string and endure every challenge the gods deem fit for my conditioning.
Because on the other side of that red string is you, and when I say.. It just had to be you….
Theses lives we live, these perceptions we carry, the sounds of music pleasing to the ear, and the books we read that make our eyes soar.
I find myself here in a pool of my own tears dabbed with a sense of poetic justice and as this unusual shade of blue, oh that unusual shade of blue that car bared that day in it’s paint.
The whoosh and whirr of the engine roaring so silently but valiantly, if not to be a that of a last act effort to simply warn me of the moment I’ve been waiting for only my entire existence.
That sound it couldn’t reach my ears in any plausible way but somehow I knew when my eyes were lifted by that passing shade of an unusual blue that was that of a fleeting glimpse of scenery.
My alerts were called to attention, if not just to gaze and check the progression that time has had around me.
So tell me what is the chance of a million chances if not one but of infinitely shifting possibilities and interchanging ideas, what is the chance, that my eyes met with yours that day?
When that car that was painted an unusual shade of blue passed on by in an explosion of fate and destiny.
I bet you the driver of that car didn’t even know how important his role in fate & destiny was that day, what leads me to you that of which was of an odd and unusual shade of blue.
My attentions were called to this date, this second, this very moment, and as I become aware of my shifting surroundings, in the fog of the overwhelming take in of absolutely everything…
I see you, with a voice soft and elegant, hair stained with mystery of time, a face, oh she has a face! with eyes the ones I dream only to stare into until the ends of time, a mouth with lips I can only compare to the soft touch of velvet, and the skin I rub the back of my hand on to check if you have a fever….
For time is not that of restraint, because some part of me knows the whoa of your ever lasting echo.
your existence is so potent with fragrance.
I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when I cried for first the very first time fresh out of my mother’s womb, I cried with the worst feeling I had ever felt, to be born into a world where we have yet to meet.
Almost as if the Angels of oblivion “shh”ed me of the knowledge of the love I will come to know, but I am left with this eternal void with a depth so great it is beyond any means of measurement.
Oh the sorrow that moans, alone and riddled, all the time that is infinitely expanding, tick tocking, and slipping into the future ever so slightly.
Between my short spark of existence and yours was a magnet that chose you and I to be intertwined in the fibers that are the forevers of time.. When I found you.
Because some part of me knows the whoa of your echo, I’ve always known.
Your existence is so potent with fragrance, I could smell you since I was in the womb, and when we first touched you awakened me with the familiarity of that fragrance which I already somehow knew, but never really could put my finger on the idea.
The “I’m home” that rushed over me, the forevers in beckoning, chiming to a melody of birds singing in joy, with the hormones of spring in full roar, an ode to the time keeper himself when I say.. I only want more time with you….
The beauty that lies in that moment is the realization, that I can wait, though I rather not.
Because I can feel you echoing in the fibers of my existence crying out to be found and awakened, and oh am I searching in the eyes of every love that ever fell short.
Only in failed attempt to capture the essence that is you.
Because you just know, you’ve always known, our souls calls out and little do our increasingly limiting minds know, the storm you will have on me..
The desert inside me screaming with drought, and your existence quenches my souls thirst.
I know my heart strings would snap if my life wasn’t that of a mosaic to be built upon just for you.
The time I spent in solidarity, the desolation grew inside me, so I seek, I look, and sometimes I make mistakes, but my heart belongs to you and only you, the women with hair that is stained with the mystery of time….
WHEN will you come out of your shadows, WHERE will I be, WHAT decisions must I make to perfectly aline my life to one day run into you by that of simply chance, and oh I’ve said it a million time but WHY must I wait?
It is nothing short of crippling to know that of which is on the line, I can feel your vibrations more than ever now if not before, and I see the flame that lights the wic of this candle burning method that is my soul.
I let go, and I trust fate and destiny because they hold something of great important to me, and dare if I forsake it, they might just make me not be able to find my keys the day I’m supposed to run into you by that of chance, and I need to be able to find those keys oh so desperately.
So I say “praise the lords of time!” and I swear on my existence if that of which is not meaningless, that you give me meaning, in every way, shape and form.
You are that of winters mid day, you are that of a summer sunset, you’re the smell of a never before opened book, you are the melody that catches my ear every time.
Because you were always there for every single living being if not just me, you were always there, and I will meet you in all the lives I live, because with hope there is a way, and sure there may be dead ends, and forsaken ending, but where I survive, where I live another day, where I see through the eyes of which is mortal, I will devote my effort to search for you my love…
The unspoken beauty of always knowing when I say.. “when I get married” “when I have children” “when I die she will be the last face I see” we and myself including say these things these silly things as if life is to viewed as a promise.
With ever so fragile existences, we die a thousand times if only just to meet once.
Even with our own fragile existences thrown in the balance reality forces the idea that we are a pointless specs in all that is nothing, and I spit at that idea, I spit to it!
Because when I say those things I’m putting my trust in the fact that some day I just know we will meet….
Maybe we will be lucky and find ourselves in park as children and form a love in the shine of innocence that grows like a hundred year old oak tree.
Or if we meet in a place as old as time itself with that smile only to be lighted with a hint of embarrassment showing on your rose red cheeks and that look on your face filled with rush and panic, only to be becoming of you, a sense of urgency floods when you say, when you always say, what you have said so many times before, and will continue to say in the whoas of forever… “I’m sorry I was late.” And I will always return with “it was worth the wait…”
