I searched for you between the cracks of dawn and dusk,
riding the river streams, flying through the clouds,
scaling the daunting mountains,
hoping to catch a glimpse of you
-- hoping you would catch a glimpse of me.

I surfed the wind into coffee shops, bars, house parties
and felt myself falling
into the arms of beautiful and treacherous men
with heartbeats that slowed down
when the music of the night faded into the morning.

I searched for you within ageing class photos,
within high school memories of crooked smirks and cologne
of boys whose bodies I've dreamt of knowing
but never reached my grasp out to
in fear that they wouldn't hold on.

I searched for love in the bounties of nature and time,
in what could have been and what was,
in who he is and who he could be,
but never have I searched for love where it should be brightest:
within the hollows of my lonely self.

I keep searching.
For your center.
For that metronome.
That gives you your Rhythm.
For that heart.
For which I am attracted to.
The pulse, so loud.
I cannot define its location.
It is somewhere, among this, “Ocean of Chaos”.
Swimming in the Mad.

This is my beacon.
Your pulse is undoubtedly loud.
Mine is just as strong, now.
Resonating together.
But with no knowledge of proximity.
Distance.

Maybe our souls were never to meet.
Maybe we would resonate so loud,
That we would tear this world apart.
Or set it ablaze with the Fury of our Love and Kindness.
Maybe this silly little poem is the beacon we both need.

Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.

I’m searching for an answer.
Surrounded by monogamists I crawl and weep,
Surrounded by dogmatists I hunger.
I’m searching for a key to unlock the doors of profanity.
I don’t want to hear something about the seasons,
Or anything about ethics.
No more flowers,
Away with the aesthetic of yore.
Give me the affairs, the filth, secret lives.
Give me the runaways, the elderly, the jokesters.
Give me the casanovas and cougars.
I search this rotten boulevard and t
All night, all night, even during the day..
I’m on the search..
I’m looking for a key to unlock the doors of profanity.

I have yet to finish searching
For ways to preserve my being.
I’m afraid to lose my thoughts,
my words, my ideas, my emotions -
My life.
I desperately attempt to revive what is gone
While I seek things I know I won’t find.
My thoughts wander through time
As I sit here and reminisce about
Being lost in an in-between place
Neither the past, present or future
But a combination of all three.

A messed up girl
Trying to find her place
In a messed up world
Wishing perfection will go with her.
But somehow
That never seems right.
And she continues to trudge
Even in her broken form.

There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly
over the perceived salience of his musings
  
It was as if there were a veiled mystique
that left hopeful understanding ,
                   ambiguously obscured ...

His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale ,
like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,
                   drowning acumen ;

albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions ,
scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye

                    Illusive accord ,
                    beclouded by seeming stigmas
                    borne of the flesh ;
                    delicately sensitive nuances ,
                    misunderstood imperfections ,
                    bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ...

In the hush of pensive repose ,
flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ;
bequeathed as if darkness
was magnetically drawn towards light ,
purging muted understanding ...

                    Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,
                    accepting , that all answers sought
                    are not meant to be understood

A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ;
the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved ,
befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat ,
understanding a circle is vulnerable ,
only makes it stronger ―

                    hence ,..
                    it had been written
                    in countless misunderstood ways ...

Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently
for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ ,
tattooed on introspective walls
far removed from the afterglow of light ,
where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;

                    heart speak hushed , deft words avowed
                    in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper

                    soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow
                    from unseen depths , permeating
                    deeply within inner realms

The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :

               "Spell words that bind together passing strangers  
                 Coalesce  thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone
                 Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual
                 hearts and minds with words of love and light.  
                 Conjure written  spells to bespeak sincerely ,
                 a faith in unabated love"

and yet ,   he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words

…words grasped from emerging thoughts
                   drawn in to the light
                   searching for other adept words
                   to recite yet another way ,
                   sketch another word-scape ,
                   written with the relentless inexhaustibleness
                   of an unstoppable awakening ...  

Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light

                   he will write it again and again ,

                                          ... finding another way to be set free ...



                                                          ­       Harlon Rivers