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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Wondering upon our almost forgotten smiles and twinkling eyes hidden, we have spun this world in smoke and mirrors, reflecting light in curving waves. We have wandering into the misty fog as it marched out of clear air on a perfect night to become rooted in the moss upon which we dream, seizing that ethereal ground like honey under winter's veil. Perhaps it explains why that which spins in you is foreign to me, sometimes, and yet somehow a thread of it loops around my heart and tugs, as familiar as kin, or friends too long apart. And I realize how deeply you reflect the same light that I've known uncounted for a thousand years times a thousand more. I feel the stretch of this flaxen fulfillment and hear its golden tone humming as it lengthens. Sometimes too loose to vibrate the membranes of our soup-can telephones. So that even though we both speak in muted carefully hesitant tones, our words slip away into space and only the stars know the songs we sing. Bellowed out like whales in an empty sea, only by chance refracted into a hearing ear, that begins to understand and then lapses into slumber again. Even as magnificently we harmonize beyond the dark face of the hidden moon at midnight, we hear not each others callings, and even less often see them dancing. Except perhaps in the limelight of our hearts sweet glow where I know we live. So it is odd to feel this familiar twist of an old theme of distant overtures not really knowing what note should follow the one that follows the one that is yet unwritten. It just floats there unresolved, sometimes aching for nothing at all, other than the illusion of being. Yet sometimes aching for the grace to say softly, the love that floats here in my heart for you, without trying to enchant an echo. Just to freely blow that kiss into free space knowing that is enough to be received by the one that is. And given by that one too, to itself. And so I reflect upon that flow I have named you, and wish it good journey, knowing we are both leaf and river. Masters of the helm we sometimes do not steer and only at the mercy of the sea we will not tame.
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