Oh to know the difference between a might be and a will,
the solid foundation of love in question,
Oh to realize the fallible nature of society driven by rule,
to know the outcome before we are made the fool.
Oh please believe my heart when an ache is known
for there is nowhere else I wish to be found,
then in her arms, with her sweet taste, her lips that share the night,
that in a moment I might lose myself and find comfort in thee.
Oh to know the beauty of Grace may be round,
in that her elegance of lost hope that now is found.
I haven’t found a way,
to alter the frame of mind,
still hoping, waiting,
still wondering if there is life after
falling into a corner collapse
where the only tangible piece I could recall,
was glancing toward the light,
only to notice
In the shadows lives a mystique,
we can design our own mystery,
for whenever the need arises,
our hearts often choose to prevail.
The speaker addressed the room,
eyes upon them, many thoughtful worries,
all seeking the same outcome,
They traveled for miles,
alone in their own personal struggles,
each one living a quiet curiosity,
all of them believing in a certain goodness.
Life is fallible,
now asked to believe,
we are all part of this machine.
The speaker noticed one
tucked away with purpose
in the far back row,
from a distant he could see their eyes.
Even when we try to hide in a crowd,
the red circles around our lives,
do tell a story,
one for which we might be proud.
The speaker then asked everyone in the room,
if you could share one thing what would it be,
and then he directed the people
to look one another in the eye, for a time …
There would be cold,
the chill each step a bit more,
a challenge to move, a spiritual quest,
wondering about so many beforehand,
the waves would tell the story,
the breathing soon to be patterned,
a sort of survival inside a dream,
a slow reckoning
the chill of an eternal peace,
A mystique that I can count on,
to see her eyes,
the color of her hair,
I hold on to her
while others can only imagine,
this visual beauty,
that once swept their visual glance.
I do hold on to you now,
for it is that moment I want only to recall,
a touch of your lips,
gracious and sweet,
the yearning, the pace,
the accentuate gasp
when found inside your world.
I wonder about love
and is it this painful to endure,
the silence of knowing just how
salient your dreams are for me,
for I do wish to be
inside that day in the woods,
when you kissed me,
and I asked you to let me
hold onto you forever.
I will, I do, I can as long as time
will let me be with your memory.
I struggle with words,
they seem to carry on a certain storyline,
one I can never really grasp,
until the print allows my eyes to remember,
the swimming in motion ends
when it becomes the right time to let go.
I’d like to find the imagery in pain,
is it the steel edge cutting into a red ribbon,
where eyes might watch the soul slip away
in steady stream
no more hesitation,
a quiet, soothing, not so eternal release.
A friend of mine once said to me,
it is true we live our lives a very short time,
so in that span of countless hours,
we might remember love,
for it is that spiritual energy allows our smile,
if only for a brief instant,
to give us hope, a meaning and reason to survive.
I know that sometimes words might convey meaning,
but if it isn’t felt then they do become
only a semantic journey filled with imagery and pause.