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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required LOVE OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND Lost was that gift none can ever replace, that gift come from the Divine, a love in the subconscious mind. Angels wept for joy, for my love and I, for what we were and had combined. Each from each to each other and no other, each in that constant state of mind. Promises lived and loved in the living. Promises in the face of death resigned. made from the subconscious mind. I implore you deny me love at this time. It's wrong when I am so disinclined. But in a day, and a day, as I while time away and become again less undermined. The subconsconscious will mend, become whole again---- for surely angels are so divined. To make room for more love, not throw out the old, but simply fold the old in behind. My Katie was here for a while and then gone. Your face brings her face to mind. Gazing at deep pools of innocence, I see a loveliness usually hard to find. Yet, time, I do need, so as not to compare two faces, two hearts, in kind. I want love, love filled of all loves of all time. Not dry, as becomes the rind. Spontaneous, deliciously, warm to the taste love, bred of the subconscious mind. Yes, bred of the subconscious mind. It was June when my Katie and I said hello. I was moved, my feelings defined. The next June, in the spring of our life we wed, an experience, one of a kind. We loved with a love that only lovers know, many look for, yet never find. And the love, for this love, continued to grow ‘til we two were only one mind. Yes, only one subconscious mind. She gave me a gift, in nine months to the day, our love now, forever affined. Instead of dissolving the closer we came, our hearts, and bodies entwined. But something happened on that birthing bed. A tiny seed, exposed, unconfined, grew, and continued to grow inside and spread, all, part of life, as it is designed. And I lost a gift, in nine months to the day, one gift, for one gift, in kind. Lost was that gift none can ever replace, that gift come from the Divine, a love in the subconscious mind. Angels wept for joy, for my love and I, for what we were and had combined. Each from each to each other and no other, each in that constant state of mind. Promises lived and loved in the living. Promises in the face of death resigned. Made from the subconscious mind I implore you deny me your love at this time. It’s wrong when I am so disinclined. But in a day, and a day, as I while time away and become again less undermined. The subconscious will mend, become whole again— for surely angels are so divined. To make room for more love, not throw out the old, but simply fold the old in behind. © May 23 2011 Charles G. Henderson
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