Lost Love Letter

laugh

So often we move through life with our eyes in the rear view mirror,
refusing, fearing, to participate in our future.
We effectively back into our own history.
That stunning kiss,
so wordlessly tender,
left me without a history.

We spend so much time in “history” that when we step out of it –
like I did with you
We realize how beautiful “the now” rests in the open hand of the future.

 

Beautiful ponderer,
I strongly desire to sit and be silent with you.. .
Just dwell in your visage.
Follow your eyes,
their light,
their darkness.
Your eyes catch every light..

Something about you doesn’t mark time.
It lingers, like antiquity
something pristine and still.
Your eyes carry little lights, like a lantern in a shadow.

You’re an ancient tree with a wise shade –
one pauses walking beneath your canopy, asking:
Do I stop and lie in the coolness or watch from afar..?
Perhaps your gaze sees something in my future I do not know about…
I feel like a crystal globe around you,
full of dreams and illusions,
and soothes and snow..
You’re a rarity.
Obsidian black, conchoidal fractures that radiate light.

Your intuition is prey animal, sharp.. quiet..
comfortable in shadows and light,
day and night.
You can revolve around both sides of a person,
as if we might imagine the benevolence of
both the illuminated and dark sides of the moon.

There is something “unfolding” about you…
always surprises.

something about you precedes you…
A leaf uncurls and turns toward the light.
If one is not projecting true light, they will not see the face of you –
they will see but the blade, or something curled up and closed.
I suspect it is a bit of both.

When there is stillness, you enter like a mist.
I am disarmed of my words.
there are no empty pages to be found…
and the hours hold their arms open to me again

This is how you embrace the world
(I humbly submit this as my observation)
you have a gift..
you speak the quiet strength of both genders.

Old Bundle of Letters

When I saw you, when I walked beside you…
when you enter a room
there is something timeless about you…
such that I really have nothing relative to what I’m “used to.”

You have reminded me of another part of myself.
A simpler self –
Kinder to me, gentler toward others.
You communicate from a space to a space that is rich,
loving, heart centered.
As I said, your presence is a meditation, a yoga…
write, write, open and break through this rainy day with a smile and sparkling deep set eyes.

I love how you move into consciousness like fragrance from a distant garden.
Our hearts pour into each other,
and God bears the pitcher.
Perhaps we are the wine in each others fountain.

I am certain beyond where reason can venture,
that you were sent by Allah at this time
for such deep and lasting ever widening ripples, waves, tides!

That you make it easy for me to speak,
and do not hear my words as tricks of my mind,
leaves me awake but dreaming.
God in everything I do suppose

There is a difference between understanding the metaphor
and simply feeling the warmth of words
and allowing yourself to reflect into another…
So, that you are aware of this,
makes it comfortable for me to communicate with you…
in any way really.

I feel as though I am stepping out of blinding light into revelation…
and here you are;
your shadows,
your “unfolding” inner voices that trusts my hearts ears.
Trust

do you feel the quivering?
do you feel me shifting?
At time, nothing exists, but that moment.
We catch each other looking at the other;
not for validation or clarity;
but for me, a deepening attraction.
Something within me is deprogramming itself.
You’ve come to me as a gentle loving soul,  stunning as you are.
Rose gardens don’t make a sound….
and every rose is opened up. I feel you.

You make it okay for what is within me, no matter what, to express.
It’s not enough always to keep within and not share – so I share.

You deliver tranquility..
You see me.. it comforts.

letter rose

So often we move through life with our eyes in the rear view mirror,
refusing, fearing, to participate in our future.
We effectively back into our own history.
That stunning kiss, so wordlessly tender, left me without a history.
We spend so much time in “history” that when we step out of it –
like I did with you
We realize how beautiful “the now” rests in the open hand of the future.

There’s a deepening fondness that beckons to spend more time with you…
in a strange way that has its own melancholy.
Stepping so deeply into someone is often transformative,
It dissociates me from my former self,
a former self that I choose to bless and move past.

We have much in common.
I’m falling deeper into something with you..
And because you are so different,
the deepening keeps surprising me.

We paint with a diluted paintbrush
the true color remains at the bottom of the watercolor palette.
Like humans, their authentic hue is in the undiluted wells of the heart.

We write with an emotion
imbued by the nourishment we receive from each another
moved to write, compelled to express

I feel you when you dip your quill into my heart,
my blood, the ink with which you write your stories.
The ink becomes the symbol of what you mean to me,
your parchment as pure as our intent,
and I delve deeper into you..

Deeper still, I find the ink enabling
Allowing me to reach further into myself
Trusting in the inward and outward appearances.
.. of ‘this‘..
Delving deeper into each other,
treating tenderly all that we discover,
patiently, attentively, openly..

mailbox

I never expected to meet you.
I’d literally forgotten the person within me that I loved and respected so much.
It is a person that recognizes when he is falling, and I am sensing that
I’m falling for you in ways that at least as a neophyte I’m beginning to recognize.
I love this.
It’s real, earthly AND divine.
It’s beautiful and raw!

You don’t deserve more than me…
you deserve ME! and I’m a LOT!
I was told I am to go to you.. No where else.
By my heart!

Your beauty stuns me…
your calm disarms me,
your kiss blows me away,
your creativity is palatable,
your intelligence is sexy,
you are not broken, you are just right..

I like myself the way I see you,
and do I ever love the way you see me.
And still there is more to each of us
that’s what makes this exciting. It’s just real

I sense such purity with you
I was hiding myself, so much so that with you I hardly recognize myself…
and now I like what I see
You can allow yourself to love without restriction.
So can I.

You are totally capturing me.
You know, you might never get rid of me. I am consistently loving
I can tell this is the real you.. and that is a hard thing to let go of.
So gently I embrace.. speechless in ways.

Ya Allah. Deeper I go.. into  “this”
You wont go alone.
I am unfolding into you.
I’m heading straight into the moon
I find you absolutely beautiful, desirable, soothing, loveable.

I feel an inclination to protect you.
Although I’m not sure from what
There is something vulnerable about your eyes,
yet fierce.
I don’t know whether to protect you with my heart,
or follow you into a lions den.

I dont know if I’m falling in love with you from the inside out
or the inside in..
We are love
dancing wild on the tip of a wick.

We humans were made to be commanded by our hearts,
this shell we haul around was a consequence,
a cloak to hide among others.
True love is to remain hidden in the mysterious combustibles [chambers] of the heart,
it’s fire casting light from the eyes.
This is how we recognize love – by the depth of the hidden fire,
and the length of the reaching flames.

fire2

And only you can tie bows in wildly flailing ribbons of flame!
Leave it to a gift wrapper…
How transported I get with you.
You carry your candle into my shadows
It’s not unsettling, it’s warm and new.
You are a meditation.
I wish the words were here.
If you were here,
I would fall asleep with your hand under my cheek…
my soul pressed against your chest,
my breath cradles in the rise and fall of yours.
This is what will guide me to depths tonight…
thank you from the barely dreaming…

at the end of our inhales, that is where I will be…

inhales

 “That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there.”
~ Pablo Neruda

A ‘not so empty’ Gift..

 

journal

A gift is fragrance out of breath

fled from the abode of the urn

seeking respite of a wayfaring vessel

within whom, it makes its return.

Be not daunted, open the cover,

Draw deeply from spirits fathomless well

Oh, water bearer for the soul of dry parchment,

A river of words erodes the truth a mountain can tell.

Lo, winds of wisdom for the seeking leaf

Softly turn its empty pages

Stir them not, but deliver the stillness

Spoken through the love of inner sages.

Leap not, be gently drawn

Oh, sojourner, not so soon,

Soft, the precipice waits for you to cast

From the abode of your own perfume.

Those who give, journey on

Deep in the heart of others who are given

And when the page seems dark, find the spark

When the flint of the lover strikes the Beloveds frizzen.

~ Skip Maselli
(thank you for this priceless gift)

Reaching Flames

 


We humans were made to be commanded by our hearts;
this shell we haul around was a consequence,
a cloak to hide among others.

True love is to remain hidden
in the mysterious combustible chambers of the heart,
it’s fire casting light through the eyes.

This is how we recognize love –
by the depth of the hidden fire,
and the length of the reaching flames.

http://phosphorimental.com/

fire

 

.. the bow that is stable.

 

 

children2

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
~ Kahlil Gibran