Apologies...

I suppose when you get older, you start to think about purpose in life. Well, we do when we are younger, sure, but I have started looking back more than forward, seeing what was lost, all that could have been gained, and the middle path: what actually happened. 

It is tough to love someone and they do not choose you, or life inevitably chooses something/someone else for them. If you have ever had to deal with this, I am sure you understand. And it can be hard to forgive that love and harder still to be forgiven for loving, for only being human. In the end, one must forgive one's self for this purpose as well. I wrote the following piece some years ago, since edited it here and there (as I always do), but... it was a start down the road of forgiveness of self through the window of time, of course. I do not know how much further I have come since then, only that I am older and doubtless not that much wiser. Still, I like the poem mostly because it takes me on the journeys I have loved most in this life... and that is well, too.


'Apologies'

I walked the shores of midnight seas,
Reveled in days that did not end,
Wandering ancient forests, 
Sleeping upon verdant fields
But a time, a soul would not wait,
And the longing could not fade.

Paths mattered little as I roamed
From city to town, hillside to beach,
Traversing storm-tossed crossings,
Metallic thunder racing the night
Yet a heart, a place could not wait,
And the yearning did not fade.

I sat watching the world amble onward,
Doing as it should to survive,
Embracing an enduring wonder, 
Reaching for unbridled joy...
But the heart and mind cannot wait;
For hope eventually wastes away.

It was not my wish,
But what happened remains;
And longing for yearning toward hopes of love,
Must like all things... 
Slip away.

C.

Golden Bay

I suppose, technically, I am referring to Wainui Bay, a place of indelible beauty and comfort (at least to me), north and west of the Abel Tasman Track on the South Island of New Zealand. It was one of those places where you could be wading in the ocean and yet see some peaks in the distance still covered in snow. The imagery in this place was quite staggering, as were many places, really, but I felt I could lose myself (and depending on the tides, trap myself) in the nooks, coves and small beaches of the area. Sometimes, I wonder if I still do... memory being what it is. So, what follows is a little stream of consciousness/blank verse about thoughts and such while walking across the bay and the area. I had written these thoughts down while in New Zealand but was finally able to put them in some cohesive format (um, at least for me I guess :)

'Golden Bay'

A drifting illusion on water
Amid such quiet calm
Waiting...
Beyond a distant twilight,
Lingering upon a gentle shore.

A passing thought in silence
Burdened by the tempestuous wind
Hoping...
Reaching toward your caress
Within the memory of simpler days.

Moments of serenity...
Lost to vanity and pride.

An image of a wistful dream
Borne in a sea of stars
Wishing...
To yield our tempered passion,
Hidden beneath the scars of night.

An illusion on water,
Carried by the wind.
Wanting...
Seeking some hope of resolution,
Upon the solace of your distant shore.

C.

Memories Of This Life...

'Memories of This Life'

A tempering calm amid the burden of sin,
Instinct laughing in the weathering face of time;
Resolve eroding with every 'might-have-been',
A singular, tangible moment our only crime.

Remnants within seconds lost to the gulf of night,
Awakening upon the beauty of a far-green shore;
Distant echoes of indelible days unfurl beyond sight,
A heart yielding yet wanting for more.

For all such solace beyond the thoughts of love,
I can put aside the ache and shadow of our strife;
A wandering soul with nothing left to prove,
Hope fulfilled in the memory of this life.

C.

Excerpts From A (now) Uncluttered Mind...

Well, Mom has come through her surgery ok, and appears to be doing quite well, though I think she over did it today.  Still, she should be fine unless somehting unforseen comes up...

It has been a fairly long week, though not as tough as some, but mostly dealing with helping my Mom out while she has been out for surgery.  That was mostly from worry, because I am happy to help family out when they need me... story of my life, to be fair.  Regardless, one gets random thoughts about all the strangeness in this life and it starts to clutter up the noggin some. So, I figured, in lieu of being particularly poignant and/or obtuse (which, regrettably, can happen simultaneously... what's the point of being poignant when no one gets the point... *sigh*), I thought I would clean out some of the mental debris that has been accumulating during this week.  Also, I have a couple of writing projects I have been alternately stalling and starting on (these things happen), and the mere exercise of doing this helps now and then... 

So, some random thoughts but not necessarily random in purpose...

So, am I going to see some of that 170 million spent on the 'national celebration'?  If not, why wasn't I invited? (and it's not a question of whether I would go or not, it's the principle of the thing :)

Though it's rather cold, ice cream sounds good at the moment.

Since the new president is freezing White House staffer's salaries of over 100,000, does that mean he is taking the job pro bono(since his salary is around a quarter of a million a year)? And what if you were making 98,000... do you get the shaft, or would you be one of those real troopers and take the hit for the good of the nation?

I think Congress should follow the White House's lead... most of them don't need the money either.  If they all did it, in a couple of years we could just pay off the inauguration :)

Why is it ok to take back all the wonderful things we say in love, but it is never possible to take back some of the horrible things we might say in anger... I might argue the sting from the words in love can be worse.  How arrogant we are in the passion of love. (note: guilty as charged, and if you think you are not... then you have never been in love)

We are all responsible for the mess we have created... I wonder if the stain on our souls can ever be cleansed.

I really hope the Steelers don't get a 6th Super Bowl ring... Steelers fans are bad enough... yes, I know, so are Cowboys fans, but I am not one of those Cowboys fans.

I need to be back on a beach...

(Am I the only person that thinks in parantheticals?)

Strange, I really know what it is like to be a pebble trying to stop an avalanche... worse, when you see it so clearly, and you know what is going to happen and have no way of stopping it... feeling powerless against the tide of history is a relatively normal occurrence for me.

The saying goes, 'you are only as old as you feel'... today, I don't know how old, or young I feel... but, I was always old, sooo...

Hmmm.... still a little cluttered, but less so than this morning.  It's a start...

C.

Solace of Love

I actually wrote an entry called 'Solace' a long while back, but it was more a question than the subject here, the idea of solace within love, which is certainly an ideal to seek for, and what love usually brings, or can bring if we are willing to let it.  So, I just put a few words regarding the subject down and then went from there... sort of how it works with me.

'Solace of Love'

I long for your solace...

Gentle thoughts of unending days
Memories fresh in glorious repose
A tender caress eases so many
Aches of a weary heart.

I yearn for your comfort...

Quiet calm in the deep of night
Time lingering between seconds
Yielding to an enfolding desire
Union in depths unbound.

I wait for your touch...

Elegant splendor amid the joy of 'morn
Moments beyond a cradle of stars
Rest embracing all existence
Manifest in this light of the soul.

I long for the solace of your love...

C.

The Cape

I promised I would have something more substantial about my journey to Cape Reigna...

Sometimes there are poems you wish you never had to write. In the deepest part of my heart, I feel this is one of them. While necessary and a bit liberating, it still was tough, and I hope those that read this do understand. Regardless, I do think the piece puts some issues finally to rest, and given the light of recent events... it had to be done. Anyway, I hope I have done some justice to my heart and for the future in this regard. The rest, dear reader, is for you and the world to decide...

'The Cape'

Toward this end a world awaits,
Fading in vacant thoughts of quiet days.
Words dissolve in nascent twilight,
Within a heart that cannot stay.

From a tender hope a moment falls,
Into a realm devoid of waking dreams.
Longing drifts upon her silent tides,
Amidst a heart that might have been.

Her waters caress a distant end,
Beyond her shore this memory weeps.
Our words dissolve in fading twilight,
Beneath her shore this promise sleeps.

C.

The Long Twilight

Just as an aside, some readers who have followed this blog for awhile might recognize the following poem, which is actually pieces of two poems (though mostly a title and ending change). It just seemed appropriate to modify it to this form and call it one piece...

When writing, I am a continuous editor, which I suspect might be a good trait. Often times, I will do what Frost used to do and let a poem or other work sit for a year or so, and when I come back to it, and I still like it, then it might be worth keeping... or at least refining. Virtually every poem I have written has gone through some variation or another (though I have a few notable, mayhap even incredible exceptions that some have read... or own a copy of :) It is the nature of writing, and also it gives me something to do when I am less inspired than normal. I hope that New Zealand will have the same effect on my inspiration that Australia or... others have had. In any event, the following poem is actually a fusion of a sort of two older poems, maybe a little maudlin, but I have always appreciated the metaphor of twilight and dreams (as many waking dreams occur for me in twilight, so...). On another note, this one actually rhymes, one of 4 or 5 that I have written that do... every now and then the nut finds the squirrel :)

'The Long Twilight'

I know the solace of regret...

Torn by choices from distant days
Sensing what could have been forlorn
Laid bare in full view
Of the nebulous light of 'morn.

I yearn for a memory of ignorance...

Borne from remnants of desire
Yielding to a truth that would not stay
Lost in the sorrow of desolation
Caressed by the shadows of a fading day.

I seek the embrace of absolution...

Coursing through veins of doubt
Removed from this soul's gentle light
Welcomed ever so warmly
Into the approaching wasteland of the night.

I am haunted by twilight...

C.

Today... and Tomorrow

Technically, I wrote this yesterday but forgot to post it... still, it applies to the rest of the week as well and the month as a whole... memories are like that for me I guess.

The shadows of a year ago today have weighed heavily upon my heart, and today... at least today perhaps, I am entitled to share that weight, maybe even all it entails. The day itself does not linger in shadow, only the illusion I allowed myself to believe. Now, it seems unreal, and yet, like other unreal moments, I live with the memories. My nature, for good or ill, compels me so. I cannot change that aspect of myself, nor should I want to, for in doing so, the best part of me dies. Without the inspiration of memory, I am less a man... merely a shadow of a shadow. Because of this, then, undue (or maybe due, who knows?) strain can haunt me, just as a pleasant thought erupts into a burst of creativity. Such is the dual conflict of one born under the Sign of Sorrows (that would be us Pisceans). Of course, astrology can be as much an excuse when one is a 'perfect' match as it can when you cast blame upon the stars for the nature of your heart. Really, it boils down to a decision: whether you decide to be a good person... or not. Indeed, it is the simplest decision of them all, the choice of the good heart and right action. Admittedly, right action might not necessarily be good, and what is good (or at least perceived to be so) might never be right. Most times, such things are in accord. Who I am is the result of my choices and feelings. Sure, all (or most) of you might have had a hand in molding my feelings and choices, but in the end, I have to be the one to decide, as do you all. Even in love... we make choices, even if it is to choose to say we have no choice, for it only gives us comfort in the decision that has already been made. Regardless, I understand.

So, today. For me, today, while a memory of something remarkable, is the path to tomorrow, though my tomorrow looms closer than some but not so close as others. Today needs to be set aside in the memory of past joy, so that it will not burden tomorrow, especially for me... and you, all of you. At least I hope that today creates such memories, even if they might be a glance of a memory of some pleasant past, or the hope of a brighter future. The health of the wellspring of our soul needs such hopes, if even for a little while. I am not sure what my tomorrow might bring except the shuffling of my feet across a couple of large islands at the end of the world (or however I desire to travel, by car, train, bus, sheep, etc :) Still, it is all I know about tomorrow at the moment, and for now... all I need.

In the end, I have to wonder why it all matters, even after thinking I have come to some enlightened conclusion in a sometimes vague book. Maybe it is because we all matter to what awaits in the cradle of stars, or that we all, in some strange interconnected way, matter to each other (and some more than others, naturally). Or maybe I am still just a naive fool who can never quite wipe the stars from his eyes.

If it be so, then allow this fool his indulgence of memory. Some day, the memory might fade, like so many others... but not today.

To a brighter tomorrow,
C.

A Year of Rebirth, Reckoning and...

I sit in a quasi empty hotel room drowning out the decadent noise of the television and the incessant snoring of a co-worker, who, by all accounts, is an ass, though sometimes entertaining, and at least works (unlike James who randomly disappears when he is needed most during setup and tear down). I still have to spend another week or so on the road with him, including a couple of days of down time in the DC area. Well, I get to see a few things I have not seen in awhile. Awhile... ironic at the moment and the time, for time is something I cannot escape. I am its eternal prisoner, as are we all. Yet, because (or perhaps in spite of) of my memory, time tears at me in ways most of us find easy to forget. Forget? Hardly, even when I want to. Memory is in the little things, you see, and while I can sometimes be dense, I am quite observant, and the little things... they always seem to take me at the worst possible of moments. Needless to say, this can be no one's fault save my own and the nature of the way I see the world and how I reconcile thought and memory. As such, I feel the weight of my past, the weight of this year in ways that require probably more alcohol or drugs than I can safely consume to dull the stains of this year.

Remarkably, much of the year was special, and I could never forget that... nor should I ever want to, even if others must. In a way, I have to remember, if only for posterity, and I do take pride in my desire for posterity. I admit to being prideful in such ways, but not as prideful as others might think. I have re-discovered the nature of my pride, the nature of my own dignity and the power of forgiveness in ways I never wanted to consider. Still, the experience helped me forge something greater for my own future even my present (and past) still give me pause. That is the nature of my soul... and ultimately, my sins.

I understand that some may not want to read this (though if you got this far, might as well finish :) and others may simply ignore what might seem a disconsolate attempt at what... something foolish? Contrary to many opinions, I am hardly a fool. I was certainly naive and unwilling to see what was plainly obvious, but I was in love... what was I supposed to do? In the end, I have only done what a man desperately in love would have done, and if any one claims they would have done otherwise, I challenge them to look deep into the core of their heart, the wellspring of their very soul and question the nature of love itself. For my part, I could have done no less, and regrettably at times, no more. And those of you who truly know me... you know the truth in my actions. They were borne of only one thing, borne of the truth in my soul. And if you still do not understand, then you never knew me.

I admit, during this strange, terrible and wonderful year, I made many mistakes, far less than some might think, more than I would have liked. But I have only done what I thought was right for those I cared about most, and still care about in the ways I still can. I gave everything to my words and to love. The reality, though, haunts me. I wonder if I can ever do so again...

Now, I face the world on my own, as I had been doing for so many years. Much of my life has been on the terms of others... in the next couple of months, at least, everything will be on my terms. I feel I have earned a little respite, even if whatever else I have earned in this life will remain hidden until I can allow someone else the privilege of seeing the world through my eyes again. It is not what I want, perhaps even deserve... but it is what I must do. I can only ask for your understanding and respect in these matters, as I have tried to be as understanding in return to everyone I have called friend.

I do not know where I am going, and for once I am glad of it.

C.

'Til The Stars...

I wonder what will happen when the stars grow cold. What happens to our promises? What happens to eternity? Will all that we shared be false in the cold of the void... in the stillness of entropy? Can love survive the end of time? All that has been given to the stars, all that our soul can endure, waits, but only for so long. We are the universe in microcosm, and it is us... we can only do so much, but only for so long. Or... what happens when entropy consumes us? Do we begin again? Have we done so before, maybe an infinite number of times? Maybe that is the great mystery of what awaits... in death, creation begins anew.

So, when I have said 'I would have loved until the stars grew cold...', does it have less meaning knowing what happens when the stars finally do grow cold? Do the words ever have less meaning even when we forget? Does it matter so long as creation remembers us? As long as love waits for us, as long as we are loved by the beating heart of the universe, and as long as... we can begin again, then it must matter. Then again, we could just be cosmic motes with no understanding... though, I hope not.

'Til the stars grow cold, my friends...

C.

Silence of the Heart

Since my new blog has difficulty with adding comments, I thought I would add this new piece as a new entry and move fresh from here... maybe its better that way. I always enjoyed the camaraderie on this blog, regardless of present circumstance. Maybe it can help me again. So, on to a new philosophical extant of a piece that may or may not ramble... just a little wondering, not too personal :)

'Silence of the Heart'

Sit...
See a moment not yet imagined,
Hold fast in the quiet before dawn.
Drink in the wonder of creation
Lest it fall away into the void
between the stars.

Wait...
Were it possible to do so,
Reach between the seconds.
Yearn within an instant of revelation
Before it dwindles in the resplendent repose
of eternity.

Dream...
Seek an understanding of the heart,
Know what awaits amid such calm.
Give all to what can only be imagined
Perhaps then the illusion will finally
fade.

Love...
Even within the silence of the heart.

C.

This Long Road

I have rarely referenced my blog title... it has been referenced in another post on another blog. It is not that I am truly referencing that entry she wrote, but well, thinking about my long road recently, and the future I face and am facing. The days slip by, and what was is further removed, and more and more I perhaps seem weaker and weaker on the days that just hurt, and not even days, just odd, simple moments of... 'huh, wow, I didn't think of that' like today when I wandered into the store where I bought a ring for her, well, the ring I guess. Sometimes, I wake up and think I should tell her something neat or odd or dorky and reach for the phone... instead, I let it sit because I must, what I want to say often waits and I sometimes forget... the thing is I am her truest friend (and mine as well, no matter what has happened, some great hopes are worth clinging to, this is one :) and I feel a little uncomfortable, nervous, and awkward as if I am cutting into her time. She never says it, but I think I sometimes feel it... not like when we had to (and sometimes I had to) pry each other off the phone... now, it's me... go figure.

I think of the changes of the last couple of weeks... I know I have gone from sounding desperate (most of the time) to resigned to accepting, though the acceptance still breaks my heart more than I would like. I wish that part could change. I know that she has changed, is changing, and this is all well... I have as well. At first, I thought it was regression (and some of it might have been, perhaps even understandably so) but now, I understand so much more about the nature of love and even my own heart. Indeed, I can say I love her even more than ever now, irony of ironies. My love, while still romantic (and that would be hard to change about my nature, and I would sooner not love than lose that part of me) is the culmination of what I always wanted it to be... a higher, deeper love that can transcend the pain, the kind of love that inspires and has inspired, especially from some of my writings of the past week. For that part, I am eternally grateful. When I see her next, it would be my fondest wish for her to see this light she helped create and know what her love and my love has done for me. We have argued about taking each other back, so to speak (me wanting and her against it of course) but I realize it is false to ask in the first place. To go back to how it was is to deny the evolution of the spirit. But to move forward together, if that were possible somewhere along this long road, means taking what was so good about our lives before and uniting it with the spirit of what we have learned and what lay ahead... Perhaps that is too idealistic and naive... well, what kind of hopeless romantic would I be if I weren't idealistic? :)

In all this, I know she understands the honor in my heart I have for her and how she has honored me by simply enriching my life. Her mere presence enriches me. Maybe I am a foolish throwback to another time, but I think love, when it is honored so, can never escape a person. It is a blessing that helps calm me even in my sorrow as I continue to face this long road.

C.

Her Perfect Shore

'Her Perfect Shore'

My love drifts upon her perfect shore...

A dream... a gift from happier times
Landscapes form in the hopes of fantastic days
Life... enfolded in joy.
Enraptured thoughts, blissful
Yet so unaware.

My hope rests amid her calm embrace...

A memory... forged when the world was new
Desire manifests in the instant before a kiss
Comfort... tangible and real.
Indelible wonder, unending
Yet so fragile.

My spirit understands her passionate soul...

A place... a refuge created within the hearts of stars
Affection revealed in tender accord
Peace... a yearning complete.
Gentle movements, heavenly
Yet so unaware.

My love drifts upon her perfect shore...

C.

Truth

Truth is an ugly and beautiful thing... we seek it, endeavour for it, hide from it, and conceal it. All in the name of truth at times. That is the truth of what I have endured the past few weeks, and the truth of what I have known for over a year, and what seems longer. Truth is a metaphor of our lives, and has become our lives... it shapes us, and can destroy us. Truth, to me, is not necessarily honesty... one can be honest and still conceal the truth, especially if it does a greater good. Still, I wonder about such karma in that accord. I wonder about myself in that accord. What has it done for me, aside from make me write more, feel like the person I was what seems so long a go... what good can it do for me in the future?

The truth is... I only knew what was true in her, and though the answers may forever be concealed in me, and in her, I still know it to be true.

C.

On Love: Revisited

In a far earlier post 'The Nevers That Consume Us', I took a more realistic approach to love and how we deal with love, but realized when I posted this essay, I have been more like what follows. In truth, one must be a pragmatic fusion of the two, and to be fair, I have never been one to take my own advice, my curse in serving others to a fault. These are things that I wish I could but wish I could not change. A dear friend told me, even after she pointed out all my terrible faults, she did not want me to change... and she was more right about me than I know. It happens when you give away the best part of you to someone. Yet, I remain a sap and a hopeless and helpless romantic anyways as I know that this essay truly defines the man I was, am and forever will be. Eventually, I might be more practical, but would that truly make me happy?

'On Love'

Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
that for thy right, myself will bear all wrong. --- William Shakespeare

The above line I think has summed up my nominal feelings about the subject of love, or it is at least the feelings and thoughts I should have about a complete love... perhaps even the love I wish I could have, and until recently, thought I did have. Sometimes it is the love I lost, and then it has become the love that I regret. On the whole, it is a confusing mess that has made me, more often than not, a hopeless and helpless romantic. It made me a person who has naively struggled with the hopes and dreams of my own love while bearing the burden of others in a cycle that repeats itself unendingly. Therefore, the words of the sonnet by Shakespeare are applicable and the root of my ideals, and also the root of my conundrum. I have borne so much that the ones I loved would be happy at the expense of my own happiness in many, many ways Love... or madness? In terms of unconditional love, then I should think that my actions were the truest expression of love, for I have loved without hope or expectation in return even when it tears all my strength from me. To me, love is giving, and recently, I was not giving, but expecting... expecting she would always be there, expecting a promise, expecting what I should have been giving in return. Indeed, now I am still expecting, though I want to give... I want to give of my heart and release myself from the sorrow of such unconditional desire and love. So, I ask myself again... love, or madness? Perhaps a little of both.

Being thusly a romantic, I have done so many odd things for the name of love. I have composed sonnets in the middle of a crowd just to get a woman's attention. I have read and sent poems to many a woman if only to help them understand the nature of love and still never expecting in return. I have written at my most passionate for one I loved. I left the one I loved because I was too cowardly to face my fears and stay, forever altering my life. I have created a bond with someone that can never be broken (though has been strained to a point) and, for now, it is not enough. Through all this, what drives me is more what I can imagine about love, and about my ideals of love. Needless to say, reality is far different than what we imagine, a pain that I have suffered too much it shames me too admit. If anything, I have become more pragmatic than I would like and yet, I cling to some insane optimistic and oft times suffocating ideal. Many a lesser man would have given up the ship and hardened their heart. Me, well, that would be worse than death.

So therefore, I make myself suffer because I am a little too idealistic and hold myself and others to a higher standard for the sake of a love that might not be possible. Well, it is possible. Alas, the world did not see fit to allow it to continue in the manner it should have. Of course, her life turned out great and that pleases me. And I then regretted what I lost only to think to find it again but then lose it because I sacrificed too much for the sake of the one I loved. She was also insane, but that is another matter entirely. In the end, only the idea of love was left, and I was left holding the bag, but the bag was filled with a bunch of annoyed cats :) Finally, when I did not think I could feel like the romantic I once was, I could and did. Yet, it was not enough; however, what was shared gives us the hope (um... mostly me at this point) that it could be again somewhere down the road. Maybe in an ideal world, too, but ideals are what makes me the person I am... Hope is my waking dream as Aristotle once wrote. I hope, though I understand.

One might think that my experiences have made me bitter and remorseful. I admit that bitterness has its place, but only for a moment, for it will consume you. I cannot say if I am past remorse and bitterness, though it shames me. I think that it will not consume me, and this, too shall pass. On the other hand, it can be that this has been true to a degree, for it has made me wary of what seems wonderful because I fear it could not be again... and again. I am sure all romantics deal with this in their lives. I know we do. Unfortunately, that has been why many a romantic has died far too young (um, not that I am going anywhere). It is perhaps their hallmark and the source of their great strength, in writing and creating emotion. And I refer to romantics in general, not just myself. Nor am I saying my words are any better than others. To me, the romantic has been through so much that they have no choice but to have an outpouring of emotion in love. It appears in everything they write, be it an essay, short fiction or a poem. It is a part of who they are and of who I am. The romantic has a connection with the emotion of love itself. It is both wonderful and yet deeply tragic.

It is said that experience is the best teacher. Therefore, I feel my experience has given me an insight into love that I did not have as an idealistic kid of nineteen. As a bit older and though less wiser man of thirty-five, I know better; however, when I write and have written especially in the past year or so I longed to be that boy of nineteen... A boy with stars in his eyes who knew what could be forever. Sometimes the man I am has held me back, forced me to be to practical and less giving of who I am. I have always wanted to tap into that fountain of emotion created by connections beyond words. I have achieved that in the strangest of ways, much to my undying gratitude and love, and my abiding sorrow. We are what the words make us, and the words are all we know and all you should know about me. I have been the water that does not realize it has been broken by the rock... for good or ill, this is my love.

Well, I think I have said enough of what I know of love, which probably not that much in the end. I hope you take from this what you will, for it is my offering to posterity, such as it is. All that I truly know of love is that it is amazing and that somewhere, in the depth of my soul, at the heart of the universe beyond time itself, it can last forever.

"Only those whose lives are so brief can imagine love to be eternal. You should embrace that remarkable illusion... I think that it is the greatest gift your race has ever received. " --- Lorien, Babylon 5

C.

Introspection

'How do you go on... when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend... some hurts that go too deep.' -- Frodo, Return of the King

In many ways, sometimes you just need to write, especially when you have not really written in awhile, or written in a way you used to do. On some levels, I think I forgot how to do this, how to sit down and let the words pour out, let the passion overtake me, and put the fear aside. Somehow, I let that part of me rest for a time, and it was a good rest for its part. Still, nothing motivates a writer when you reach such a point, where understanding, loss and the gulf it creates collides. One year ago, poetically at least, I gave away the best part of myself for all the right reasons, the best reasons. I would have been fine with that and to an extent, the best part of myself still resides with the one who waits on the shores of a midnight sea.

I suppose the problem is that everything is too raw, so exposed and the chasm might just be too deep within my heart, at least for now. Yet, I have to let some of this go and put it to page. My thoughts and dreams of hopes of love would wander and consume me. Hell, they may still, but as a writer, this is the easiest and cheapest form of therapy. Regardless, therapy is something I never wanted, these are words I hate with more fury than all can be mustered. This is a moment I dread, sitting and writing into the ether in the hopes my words will not be forgotten. To be true, they must, for they are only words and my words, while at time entertaining, thought-provoking and even romantic, were never hardly earth-shattering. Indeed, I ramble too much, wax tangential, and over explain the obvious even to those who get it. The lecturer in me I suppose.

Now, I sit and wonder... contemplating my path, knowing the sad truth of it all yet hoping that the hurts do not go too deep, and that time can mend this gulf, this hurt.

I leave with words I always hope to hear:

'Tye Selma Ullume Nonin Mar.' (if you can read Elvish, then you understand :)

C.

Tides

For the one who will forever be my home...


'Tides'

'And the sea shall grant men new hope as sleep to dreams'-- Columbus

In the calm of resplendent days
So sure of what would never end,
Hope seemed unending
Joy made complete...
Within the solace of hearts forever entwined.

Amid the wake of the water's edge
Not heeding the change in the winds,
Thoughts became disjointed
Moments concealed...
By the sound and fury of the murky shore.

Beyond the current of this life,
Unsure of what may yet still be,
Hope has its place
Joy need not be forlorn...
So long as these hearts remain forever entwined.

C.

Awakenings and Glad Tidings

'Awakening'

A caress, so peaceful,
Elegant and vibrant…
Wondrous, your touch
Holding close, your scent
Filling this soul,
Even within the quiet of the
Heart.

A breath, so gentle
Calm and warm…
Comfort, your presence
Glimmering, your eyes
Easing this spirit,
Though the miles keep us
Apart.

A woman, so incredible
Beautiful and dazzling…
Perfect, your love
Unyielding, your hope
Yearning for a time,
Caressed together by the warmth of
Dawn.

A dream, but fulfilled…
Even within the quiet of the
Heart.

C.

Only You Will Never Know

Some of you might have seen this before, but I wanted to post this again since some have not seen this, and it was one piece that really helped put a lot of my pain from long ago to rest.

I wrote this before I left for Australia the last time, but it is about what was left behind the first time I was in that country. A large part of my heart remains, no matter how many times I return and leave, and she will never know... but that's ok. On the other hand, I often wish she would read this, just so she would know the reasons she would never know.

'Only You Will Never Know

Are we happier now?

Our love the price I paid
In silence... In agony
Our love the cost of duty
To what? Home?

Am I stronger because?

Our joy was made incomplete
For reasons beyond the moment
Only now understood
But in the end?

Did we feel again?

Our hopes were reawakened
In the dreams of other days
Wondering... waiting
In the shadows of our memory.

Are you happier now?

Our love swept clean
In the fires of rebirth
Our life forgotten
Lost in the wake of time.

Would you care to know?

Who I am...
Is because of you.

I do not think you will ever know.

C.

Crucible of Memory

Sometimes when you see the future, for whatever reason, it can feel like a dark place, especially as you reach deeper into the twilight of your life. This poem, a slight revision of an older one of the same name, captures that to my mind, for when we have forgotten everything, all seems lost, the universe still remembers... and loves.

'Crucible of Memory'

Night falls harshly on our lives,
Memories of the sun warm upon our face.
So dim in this chilling landscape,
A darkening form languishing, haunted
By an image... so sweet
Yet long forgotten,
Words frozen in the crucible of time.

Future's days slip away in shadow,
Twilight remembering all we have known.
So far from fantastic hopes and dreams,
A gentle heart suffering, distraught
By a love... so incredible
Though fading into solace,
Words occluded in the fragments of time.

Tomorrow dawns tenderly within our soul,
The sun once again warm upon our face.
So amazing to sense what was lost,
A welcome reminder returning, fueled
By a memory... so true
No longer forgotten,
Words emerging beyond the edge of time.

C.