and sometimes mind gets lost
but mind always come home
finally, i can post again.
It is true that not all who wander are lost
But it is also true that
Not all who are lost want to be found
Or maybe I’m I just don’t think I deserve to be found
I feel to lost to be found
I am too far away from who you think I am
That if you knew
I would be a stranger to you
Wanderlust is such a romanticized term. It has such a beautiful air of brilliance. A word associated with travel and experiencing the best of life. What they don't tell you is the heavy side. The side where you can travel the whole world and still feel nothing. The part that feels aimless and empty. The dizzying feeling of dread that nothing will ever be good enough. If I can't find joy eating cacio e pepe in the heart of Rome, or exploring castles in Scotland, will I ever find joy? It makes you wonder why we wander when nothing seems to fill that hollowness in your heart. Not people, places, food, or things - nothing. Not only am I wandering the world but my soul also wanders for a place to rest, a place to call home. Nothing seems to fit. Nothing seems to feel right. Why am I cursed to wander when to most it is a blessing?
The anatomy of ones heart seems complicated and intense.
The valves and the tubes and the scars from time taking its toll.
The blood and the veins helping to keep one alive.
The memories it holds and the heartbreak it endures and thrives from over and over again.
But the anatomy of my heart is simple.
It’s filled with trees billowing and waving in the wind.
It has salt water from the bluest oceans flowing through the veins keeping me afloat with summer dreams.
It has been slowly and faster in the throes of passion and in the woes of pain.
It has shown me that through adventure and wonder I can keep myself alive.
So tell me... how does the anatomy of your heart look?
one and another played a game in the forest
where the dark trunks rose tall
and the creatures were a chorus.
the delicate blue air in the midnight’s gloom
left one disoriented:
are the sounds one’s voice too?
one wondered and wandered, but after some time,
another’s voice and one’s thoughts
intertwined in one’s mind.
one cried and one protested, one just didn’t know;
was one even moving?
for one lost feeling in one’s feet below.
the cold wind blurred one’s sight, and nothing seemed clear
so one closed one’s eyes
overtaken by fear.
one was without feeling, legs to chest, and even one’s face.
now all one wanted
was another’s kind, warm embrace.
embrace one another.
tell me how you want me to love you
in the ways you cannot love yourself enough
pressing my ear closer to your mattress
restless under your pillowcase
my teeth become something disposable by morning
your mouth begs to be fed before sunrise
lips parting for stale air between lulls in our interactions
as if saying something could make me breathe easier
knowing i will respond before i simply can't
i am expectant in the ways you clear my lungs
before lying in the bed you've made for us
tell me again how you want me to love you
in the ways i cannot love myself
to fill a void made for no one in particular
folding corners of my blanket back over each other
there is safekeeping in barricading thread count
fingers numb from pressing us together for too long
losing my grip on what reality i have succumbed myself to
tell me again how i have done this to myself
in the ways of tolerating your recklessness
pillows becoming somewhat of a buffer
for noise that concerns the neighbor at night
what good will yelling do if your body constantly screams
shouting for someone who left awhile ago
slipping out of your window at night
tell me how you want me to leave
in the ways you cannot tell me to
too afraid to make noise in a silent ballet
tiptoeing around uncomfortable conversations
dancing over select words in exchange
with the rhythm of my accelerated heartbeat
My Sweet Sav
Trying to write a poem about you is the most difficult thing in the world.
I could write down every word,
Or every song that comes from the birds,
And still that wouldn’t be enough.
You are everything and more,
You are powerful like the waves crashing on the sea shore.
You’re unlike anybody I’ve ever met,
You’re an old soul with a cigarette.
I suspect that’s why you keep coming back in your lives, meandering.
Seeing the same things,
But in each life it’s different because of your new grown wings.
You understand and enjoy these things more,
Because of all the paths that you have wandered through before.
You are daring,
You are a darling.
And even when you’re falling,
Boy you don’t go down without fighting.
You are growing,
And I’m so happy that I get to see you dancing -
My Sweet Sav
My thoughts scatter,
There in the field, this is the earliest of days.
Natures music, the collective buzz
Blooms brilliantly as the farmers gather hay under lantern light.
Half shaded cornfields
Extending pass the mountains face
Thy ego rolling away.
I am a celestial wanderer,
Rather than a terrestrial one.