my evening walk,

i barely remember a thing.

a blur of street lamps polluting the night sky full of stars with names we can't pronounce...

you is all that occupies my mind now.

i hope that is okay

is that okay? . . .

i haven't forgotten about you

without me,

but me without you

i have.

an unthinkable time

an unbearable thought

an uncomfortable feeling.

i wasn't sure what i wanted then,

but i'm sure now that i don't want your feelings to ever change.

i don't know my way back yet

but i will.

& when i do i promise i will let you know...

i don't know what it is yet

but there's something about you

that pulls me into your orbit

& something about me

that draws you closer into my gravity...

"you can't have one without the other"

we don't know what it is yet,

but when we do,

we'll let each other know.

Does my face appear in a crowd when you can’t find anyone else? Does your thumb open Snapchat by memory, waiting for my name to pop up? Do you think about that night when you lie in bed, alone, skinless, when there’s no one around? Does your sweater still smell of my perfume? Does your wallet still stow away my photo? Do you hesitate before saying my name like it’s a curse? Do all of your songs drip with my name? Do you even remember me at all?

With just
Two words to use
To say the things I must
I find my dictionary closed.
I’m lost.

A ghost
In search of words
That hide from Poet’s pens
And make contact impossible
For friends.
            ljm

i heard a robin sing in the winter snow
his lovely christmas song that gave my heart a glow
sticking out his chest when the notes got high
as he sang to me his christmas lullaby

every note in tune with a lovely melody
made me feel so happy set my spirit free
i wont forget that day or his lullaby
something i will remember till the day i die

when his song was over in to the air he flew
way up high above in the sky so blue
i gave a little wave as i said goodbye
as i said thankyou with a teardrop in my eye

The Buddhist practice is compassion
And avoidance of desire
Meditate in silence

Gandalf: Serve the Secret Fire.

The English Charnel
of course,
he meant Channel
but he could have said
funnel or whirlpool
and we'd have known.
because
it's becoming the graveyard
of those poor souls
who fought hard
to get here
and
never made it.

After midnight
when the memories of stars light the sky.

have you been there,
where the air is so clear that
you can hear yourself breathing?

you look at the heavens and
start believing,

I believe in
something that's greater, you can
call it the architect or call it the creator
but something far greater than this.