Rainy night

The front window of my house was crying long tears

Streaking down the pane

As I sat with Sonia,

I was distracted by the constant dripping

This house is so peaceful she said

 I thought it was funny that the inner state of the house was calm and protected

While outside the rain poured and raged and gradually seeped its way into my world

Through imperceptible cracks

I sopped up the tears with a towel

And this morning

I picked up the damp cloth and wondered at how quickly tears dry

Early morning

Sometimes he would wake up in the night, Just open his eyes from sleep and find himself completely awake. Vividly aware of the quiet and the dreamy solitude the darkness provided.  There was a safety in the night. Something surreal. A lonely  place for those who need the hustle of day to distract them from their true feelings. yet for those who need the quiet to centre and ground them to the earth of which they came from, it is a sanctuary. In that time he would wrestle with his consciousness. At first he was uncomfortable with himself in all that silence. It seemed to punctuate his fears and worries. But try as he might he could never will himself back into that place of rest, where the currents of the brain move in erratic pathways through sunsets and familiar places, synapses and  dendrites, Firing and snapping him into a temporary peaceful death of sorts. Dreaming him to places long forgotten or pushing him gently to face some under the surface fear. Instead he learned to embrace this time as his own. Rising from his bed he would   meet his phantoms face to face in the privacy of his space and time. He would wander  about the empty rooms, Or Sit quietly at his window. Moving around ,  The only noise was he himself Drinking it down in long sips, breathing it all in. This time brought him strength, And as the world around him woke up and felt the pangs of their own longings, Like ants the instinct to work and toil would kick in and that sweet edge of oneself available to all in the night season would be lost in all the noise. He would join them until the heavy hand of night would gather once again it's willing and unwilling charges. He would sleep deeply while he could knowing he would without warning be roused from his bed once again and take his place as a watchman. 

I would take your hand
And draw you to myself
Holding you close to my heart
I'd whisper happy birthday for the first time.

May thoughts

There is a quickening of the heart that happens when the buds are full
Tonight beneath the weathered oak hand  
I sit while the water blinds me
I have been immersed  in the waters 
And breaking through the surface of this deep
The light pierces my eyes
I squint against the brightness as
it warms me
And I can smell the growth of spring all around 
The quiet of this reflection
Conveys the true state of my spirit
It is resting in a grander scheme than I could ever dream or even imagine
It's beauty is paralyzingly
It stops me and arrests my heart
and I catch my breath
Hoping that this bursting spring will never leave me. 

Just words.

I stumbled upon a mystery. It puzzled me. The scattered pieces I found. Much like digging in the ancient sand and finding broken shards of delicate pottery Grainy and brown.  You know deep inside it will all fit together Each jagged priceless edge upon edge And no doubt there will be significant pieces missing that the treasure seeker will grieve for. And of course, by order of the universe, Which seems to delight in intrigue And the rooting around of simple man to create an order reminiscent of the grand design, Those fragments absent will be the most fundamental of them all. And that is when imagination steps in Recreating a possible, A probable, A hope, a mirage of truth in the ever shifting sand A picture and fullness that touches and at the very moment when we struggle to lift our heads from the heat, It will give life back to the marrow And help the sons and daughters of Adam find their way  back to the garden.  

i have been covered by an undeniable love
it has arrested me in the night when sleep does not come
it has spoken to me in the quiet hush of waking hours
it has whispered to me in chaos and joy
sorrow and weeping
it seems that i have played a game of hide and seek all my life
and now in this moment of space and time

i find the source of my searching
the answer to my longings
the perfect one

never before have i known as I do now
this present presence
and fear comes as always to steal you away for a season
and back then to that searching and the straining of my neck to find you
until another sacred moment presents itself
for me to catch glimpse of you again
and know this love

hello again

It's been a while my friends.
I have had no words.

More precisely, I have had no words that I can share.

You can forgive a soul for stealing away poems in the night,
or hoarding the occasional beautiful thought.
For fear,
(it is too tender for the world to fawn and paw,)
overtakes me.

But do not worry about the river running dry
or contemplate that the creek has stopped up it's watering hole.

For I have been at work.
Secretly,
Like the shoemaker's pixie.
Sewing and tapping a soul that you can fit perfectly.

And every once in a while you will remember me.
You will take these words in your hands and try them on for size,
finding that they fit you perfectly, like they were made especially with you in mind.

Remember today that there are always delicate secrets afoot.
For the magic is in the revealing.