All Of Me

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I saw you sitting in that dimly lit shop
nursing your coffee as if it might drop
Your eyes were so distant yet so firmly set
I didn’t know you
yet

We were
two lonely voyagers who happened to meet
once in a lifetime
oh your eyes smiled so sweet
on the road to some place we knew not where
we only knew
that we’d know it..
when we got there..
oh we’d know it,
when we got there.

I don’t have much but what I got
You can have it
My heart, my soul
If you can bear it, it’s yours
The tears in these eyes,
the scars that you see,
they are not that pretty
but they are all of me.
They are all of me

Once in a lifetime
You can have all of me

Oh we danced ‘neath that night sky
so bright were the stars
we moved to a song
heard with only our hearts

Your touch was like magic
you played me so well
strings of healing, our  music
was a harmonious spell

And I knew..
all my life I’d been waiting
waiting for someone like you

I don’t have much but what I got
You can have it
My heart, my soul
If you can bear it, it’s yours
The tears in these eyes,
the scars that you see,
they are not that pretty
but they are all of me.
They are all of me

Once in a lifetime
You can have all
of me

Solitude

Andre Brito Photography

Within this solitude,
I have grown in ways I never knew possible.
I have delved deeper into the caverns
of each chamber
of this sacred abode
we call the Heart,
and discovered there is no end..
It is a perpetually incessant journey.

I continue to swim,
propelled through this bloodstream, ~ this heart’s dream..
my tears becoming one with the ocean
within the vessel that carries me forth.

Guided by a gentle hand, the inward immersion continues..
It is dark.. warm..
it envelopes me.
I cannot see .. rather I feel,
moving by the sight of faith.

There is safety in this sanctuary,
the guiding hand a cord,
the darkness a soothing, protective womb.

I inhale deeply —
as I hear the voice whisper:
 everything is allegory
      pain is a sculptor (it keeps us upright)
         love is a painter (his brush divinely guided)
            lust is a cello… (but what good is an instrument without a song to sing?)
and I am ecstatically transported to Tagore:
I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument 
while the song I came to sing remains unsung.”

I exhale cathartically —
Releasing..

It seems an eternity between the inhale ~ and the exhale..
a lifetime between each breath.

cello