To seek solace as they did.
To draw strength from the natural world,
Only for it to tighten its remorseless grip,
Till it brings you face to face
With elementary truths
That spear your insignificance
And stake it to the ground without pity,
Like a trophy,
Like the bloodied innards
Of a wounded animal,
Caught in the final dazzle of despair.

I can imagine that,
Before she left him,
They might have often sat indoors,
Hidden away from the awful truths
They had uncovered,
Watching the heat from the fire,
Cast in germ-like shadows,
Rise slowly up the wall.

All too aware
That their time together was now melting away.
Two souls emptied, hollowed out,
By the risks taken in pursuit of meaning.
And, at the window,
Diamond truth.
The hawk's eye
That mocked them without mercy
And harried them, desolate, to their graves.

Life collects, pools around you.
It paints its highlights,
Nothing there you can destroy
Or begin again.

Calm in aquamarine beauty,
Barely a hint of surf's snowy trim.
Today the sea is out
But will come again.

For the moment,
On the beach,
My love and I,
Naked and blissful as can be.

In the soft, sun baked sand
History between my toes.

Sense how
Even the smooth stones ache
With stories of their own
In the shuddering light of day.

Whatever joys come our way,
The road ahead will be a hard one.
Your kinship though is precious,
Like sweet molasses,
Fuel for my journey.

Sometimes returning,
Battered and bruised I admit,
My basket full of
Fresh hewn promises,
Chiselled out and polished in hope.

And with all my dreams too
Of what could come true,
Of what my labours long to proffer you.

You know I give you my love, as best I can.

Together we live to the point of tears,
I wouldn't want it any other way.

A need for connection,
Attachment.
Drawn in, enchanted by
Resonances with nature
And the kinship of others,
With beauty
Forged by heart's endeavour.

And so should we
Always aspire to polish
Such precious achievement
With love,
A blessed friction of sorts
That allows us
To birth our night into day
And bathe it clean,
So that beloved things can glow
Together in a litter of light.

Laid bare,
Ripped open
By the sheer joy
We allowed ourselves to share,
I sensed then
This had to be the beginning
Of the end of everything.

For all I have left for you now
My love,
Is my steady heart,
My humble happiness.

And so, ****** and blessed
In equal measure,
Such is the cycle of romance,
Or so it seems…

Capricious, frail
And yet, at times, so wondrous
And all encompassing.

Yet now I can see so clearly
How, when the rose first opens,
Its thorny stock stiff and fit to burst,
Such divine and fevered feelings
Are released in a perfumed crescendo
That, from that day on,
Can never be quite as sweet again.

Maybe better this though
Than fidelity?
Some persistent fervour
That, even in its noble rawness
And good intent,
The world can spoil so easily…
And one day, no doubt,
Would have only succeeded
In choking itself.

When it comes to passion,
We might as well be beasts, it seems.
Though, trust me,
I would not have believed it to be so then.

But Oh, to have lived such a dream
And cruelly to still be here now,
Full bloodied,
Feeling the warmth of the sun
When you are not.

So now it has to be farewell!

The truth is I will never stop loving you
And am therefore irretrievably lost…
And that, my darling,
Even in death,
Has no matter of reason within it
I can be forgiven for.

Passions burst.
The excitement of being
Leaks away into time and space.

And it seems to get hotter every year,
As I lie here caught between
Loss, lethargy and a sweet indulgence
That ages you fast …

Above me
Snowy clouds
Of fleecy willow blossom
Teem in the air,
Flimsy magic
That soon slips through your fingers.

Dreams of flesh
Soon turn to dust…

Out there in the fragile shadows
Beyond the self,
Lurks unimaginable power.

Energies that conspire
In the darkness
To offer you a tantalising glimpse
Of another world:

Possibilities beyond dreams,
The scalding risks of magic beyond mortality
That cannot help but slip through your fingers
As soon as you reach for it's blessing.

Like the stale perfume of a tired romance
The searing light of morning
Asks unwelcome questions,
Fragile hopes soon blistered by daylight.