In Dreams..

dancingIn dreams
he loves me ~
he looks at me with those seductive eyes
that take me on flights along emerald skies

In dreams
he touches me
and I melt with desire
his hands and his kisses light me on fire

In dreams
he takes me
on trips to France and Italy ~
we dance the night away and
dine on the finest cuisines,
sipping champagne
in chauffeured limousines

Then I awaken…
…and have to get ready for work.

Lost Love Letter


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.

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..


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.


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…


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

In Whispers

We sit in the same room, the same car, the same bed
mere inches apart, yet the distance feels insurmountable..
We sit in silence, each lost in our own thoughts,
but it is so loud in my mind.
My thoughts are screaming out to you.. wishing you could hear them.
I slowly let my eyes drift in your direction.. you are miles away,
no where near where my thoughts can reach you.
I wonder where you are,
and where you wish to be.

Foolishly, I try to make you love me.
Foolishly, waiting for you to love me,
thinking time will bring you to me;
thinking if I just try this.. or that..
But sometimes we try too hard.

We sit staring into each others eyes,
but we are looking through each other.
You – looking to where you wish to be;
I –  trying to see where you are,
trying to figure out when it was that the light in your eyes dimmed,
when the flame died.
Seems it died too soon.

I miss the times you would gaze into me,
and see me.
When I saw the passion in your eyes,
when I felt your words tear into my soul,
when you spoke to me
in whispers
so only I could hear.



I will always remember


I will always remember
standing next to you~
the way your hand glides over my back
slowly caressing..
then retreating..

sitting near you
as you read
engrossed in words,
your mind in a place far away.
you will read to me,
and I love the sound of your voice.
So often it seems
I have heard your voice
long before you spoke to me

When I feel sad and alone ~
as if you sense my somber wistfulness,
you take my hand in yours,
intertwine your fingers with mine,
and hold them..
gently yet firmly.
you bring my fingers to your lips
and kiss them.

I will always remember
the way you kiss me,
the way you hold my mouth
between your thumb and fingers
and draw my lips towards yours
as if you are claiming ownership,
and I so want to be claimed by you.
Nothing else matters at that moment,
when I can feel you smile
in the middle of that kiss..
knowing you have
all of me.
and I can’t help but also smile..

our morning coffee
our books
our music
~ our silence ~
your arms around me
the warmth
your eyes
your smile
~ the light ~
my joy

our yesterdays

Take Comfort In The Solace Of Knowing..


In deep emotion
tears begin to well from the very bottom of the heart
filling it up,  rising..
until they are on the very precipice of the eyes;
even the slightest breeze,
the thoughtless word,  the unwanted thought,
could spill them over,
a tidal wave of epic proportions
leaving one submerged in a flood
overwhelmed by the deluge..
Seeking refuge.

I find myself constantly at that cusp..
How can you refuse the plea of a heart that loves only you?

This life
is all about heartache
and heartbreak
and healing..

The wells of the heart get deeper each time we love
for heartache carves deep into the chambers,
and fortifies their walls with diamonds and gold,
elaborately embellished and embroidered in verse
reflecting divine light in an infinite mirror.

We become light…
until ultimately
we are with our true beloved
when the Heart is purified
ready to receive

Take comfort in the solace of knowing
that if you are in heartbreak or heartache,
you are not yet with your true beloved..
and your beloved awaits..


“Sorrow prepares you for joy.
It violently sweeps everything out of your house,
so that new joy can find space to enter.
It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart,
so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place.
It pulls up the rotten roots,
so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow.
Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart,
far better things will take their place.”




From the cracks of a broken heart,
incredible luminescence can emerge
and light your way ~

Yet you keep your eyes closed
and focus on the darkness behind you

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~  Rumi

Open your eyes
Let the light enter through the wound

And from within you,
let it brilliantly shine through
Let it blind you with its intensity
Let it burn and seal the wounds
with its golden effulgence

And a new you shall emerge
more beautiful
more resilient
more divine

Become kintsukuroi


Teaspoons of Light

“I take in teaspoons of light to feed the darkness…
and still it growls with hunger.

Nothing craves light more
than a shadow with a secret it wants to show.”

conveyed by ~ Arthur ‘Skip’ Maselli   @Proseplay
anthologized by ~ skyblueandblack



when you break the heart of one who loves you…

when you break the heart of one who loves you
you destroy the home in which you were living

amidst the rubble and the dirt,
the eyes water and sting

from the dust

Rebuilding takes time, and a resilient will, 
because the foundation has to be made stronger,
more authentic..
marble and ceramic and crystal chandeliers
to catch the light

and you are no longer a welcomed guest


“When open people open, they *open*.
But the flip side is that when they close, they really close.”
~Yasmin Mogahed

Wanderers In A Field of Flowers

“Behind the blood-stained curtains of Love, 
there are fields of flowers where lovers wander.

To wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart.”
~ Rumi

A girl once wandered along a field of flowers, feet bare
Carefree and unafraid of what she might encounter there

She knew the thorns she removed from her staunch heart
were the launching point, from the point of depart

With the promises that come with the freedom of wings
that portend magical Hope and other beautiful things.

She stopped in the midst of flowers abounding
held out her arms to soak in the sun’s rays astounding

Her head raised high, her eyes serenely closed
no more tranquil an image could have been posed.

Soon thereafter, a feather from the heavens fell
suddenly appearing, as if cast from a spell

It gently danced and glided, sought out her hand
as if searching for a warm place to land

A feather of the most vibrant hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

No sooner had the feather ended its flight
there followed a most ethereal sight .

It was the most exquisite bird,
and suddenly,
something within the girl’s staunch heart stirred.

On her outstretched hand, the bird gracefully landed,
peered into her soul, her attention it commanded.

Resplendent and fine, its feathers in all those dazzling hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

She could not help but caress those fine feathers,
as she stood amidst the irises and the heathers.

The bird sang a melody so sanguine and so sweet
only briefly it lingered in sorrow,
a song reminiscent of times long past,
and a subtle promise of tomorrow.

As the bird then moved to the palm of her hand
its beauty, a stunning mesmerization;
the awareness that it may soon fly away
was a sudden and terrifying realization.

She held it with care, grateful for each moment
treasuring each offering like a gift from a lover
Is your heart here to stay, she wanted to ask,
or does it belong to another?

You are not from this place, she thought to herself
You belong in paradise, your heavenly abode
Are you visiting, dear wanderer? Or lost, searching for home?
Still pursuing a path along your designated road?

How easy it would be to close that hand
hold the exquisite bird there forever..
It would sing to her every day,
A bond that would not sever.

But love is not of a forced possession
In her being, this she knew.
That vibrant light would surely dim
There would be no more vibrant hue

And so she wandered on in the field of flowers,
towards the blazing horizon of the dusking sky.
The majestic bird perched upon her open hand
as it sang the songs of days gone by.

Fear remains, along with many thoughts awoken
they set behind the fiery orange-crimson sun,
they hide behind fragile promises spoken,
and gold-gilded intentions begun.

Twilight descends, infused with the disquiet dark brings
accentuated by the stillness of night..
‘but the morning brings strength to her restless wings*’
and Hope, emerges with the Light.


*Jackson Browne