Monday, May 23, 2011

Love is:

Love is:
its own madness its own reason
its own danger its own rescue

Love is:
its own mission its own inspiration
its own adventure its own justification

Love is:
the old woman's only enduring memory
the little girl's lifelong dream

Love is:
the bride's precious anticipative anxiety
the widow's never-ending misery

Love is:
how the ideal world should ideally be
what unconditionally unites you and me

Love is:
what's needed at every step to infinity
what lets us ourselves be

Love is:
what keeps me warm and sets me free
what brings me home to none but thee

Love is:
what makes me write despite all reality
what we are and what we forever wish to be


Last night

Last night we visited
the yellow flower atop the beckoning mountains
the one which the bee loves to tickle tease
the one which once was his first gift to me
Last night we sat lingering
under the charming wide canopy
we spoke of him and me; our legacy
and sung songs that dwell in possibility
I dared not venture even a casual touch
one touch could have woken us to reality
Soon we had to leave for the bell had struck twice
once for his mind and the next stubbornly for mine
Tonight we might visit the sublime blue sea
if only we both dream the same blue sea