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tomorrow exists within the confines of a sonnet.
it sings to me sweetly, calming words which reflect
the promise of the days to come.

and i can smile,
and i can look to the stars
and sense the wonder of a child again
as i ponder simpler questions
with grander implications

such as, why do the heavens, in their glorious expanse
seem to engulf me in a blanket of stars?
is it because the night sky panorama is somehow
larger, or because i see myself in a portrait
and know, one being cannot exist by himself?

why is it that when i behold
something as ordinary as the moon
i can see the portal to the horizon
and revel in the wind with
humble appreciation?

the combination of particles blowing through my hair
is the combination of voices chanting out, leading me
toward paradoxes and puzzles, symphonies and soliloquies,
patiently awaiting the dawn to dream of dances

and partners
and hope and peace
and simple tranquility
and promise and change
and the knowledge that the future,
once so startlingly uncertain
has now become an open book
with pages desperate to be filled by us.

i step through the door and into the days which follow
and interlace my fingers with the hand reaching out for mine
knowing that whatever might come, whomever i shall
meet from this day forth, and whatever i shall do…

… i do not face it alone.

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tangle me within the whispers of the evening
and hold me close within the shadow of the day.
sunset brings with it the kiss of soft remembrance,
pining for the brush of tender touches;
beckon me and steal me away.

i want to be surrounded by your essence,
feeling you inside the marrow of my bones.
i want to drift to sleep with you my final thought,
and wake with you a desperate notion,
my spirit not sated without you near.

you bolster me with words of wisdom.
you clutch my hand through tempests
wrought by human hands; you guide me
through the desert valley. when i am with you
nothing could distill these sentiments…

except to lose myself within the moments and
lose myself within the promise of tomorrow.
sentinel of my soul, my heart kept safe within
the cherished emotions exchanged,
come tangle me within your peace, my reverie.

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your scent still lingers all around me.
my fingers tingle with the memory of
tracing the features of your face,
exploring your body while knowing
this is right. this is all right.
i feel the cravings burning in my soul anew.

spent so much time dancing
without holding you inside my arms.
felt the fever rising without
letting you extinguish the flames.

the spellbound recollection of a kiss,
the way my soul became unraveled when
you looked at me that way,
and then i knew
that this was right, this was so right.
i reach for you to hold you once more.

spent so much time wondering
about the consequences of our actions.
felt the sentiments start rising
without sharing them with you, lover.

but now i know the way it feels when
my hands touch you and yours
touch me in return. the jolts of energy,
far more potent than a bolt of lightning.
this is right. this is very right.
i slip into your soul and find myself at home.

***

\”Howl\” – Florence + the Machine

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knee deep inside the waters
rushing through the current
being pulled by the undertow
what i would not do for

one kiss,

one decadent embrace.

rushing to you to be united with
the spell you cast upon me
the way it feels whenever

you

me

we are this enthralled with one another.

just one kiss, my lover;
just one embrace, to be spellbound.
the world around us melting away
until all that is left is

you

me

the night between us,
the stars shattered and the earth
dislodged beneath our feet.

what i would not do
for you.

what i would not cross.

what mountains i would not climb
just to be with you.

bring me under,
pull me down;
capture me,
claim me,
and i shall show you
the depths of my love.

#41 – Dave Matthews Band

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i gaze into the portal of self
whenever i am close to you, my lover.
you lead me to the doorway and
invite me into the corridors of truth.

such volumes; so many stories of
the way things were and the way
things could be. i look to the future
and think of chapters yet to come.

so many winding, twisting paths,
how much i wish my young heart
were a trifle older so i could say
i shared those experiences with you.

but there are words yet to be written,
ideas yet to be penned and
symphonies yet to be composed
by the skilled hands which lead me onward.

there are dreams yet to be dreamt
and lives yet to be acted out
on life’s grand stage; shall we
play our parts, oh maestro mine?

speak with me and i shall
speak with you. share your thoughts
with me and i promise to be the
open book you plumb eternally.

so many things await inside a
future yet to be determined.
tell me of your past, my lover
and we shall forge our future together.

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the poet etches words onto a paper
indelible words, with indelible sentiments
spoken in the deepest portions of the
deepest channels within a river running
through the very soul.

what could be said more than the
languages invented by men?
fickle, the sentences, often written
to lay the foundation of houses built on sand.
i watched the tide come in once.
it swept away the firmament.

tell me what conveys truth deeper
than these falllible tools?

would droplets of blood upon a canvas
do the work of a hundred sorcerers
casting a hundred spells to make these
small and simple phrases
lift from the page and bleed into the
cracks and fissures of your heart?

would the whispers of angels
in the ears of gods on thrones above
lace the ink spilled on the parchment
with such magic, the truth could not
be spoken any more sincere?

bound to the earth, i am.

the spells and whispers, the drops of blood,
all of these things yet find their footing
on those castles made of clay
laid down by servants of the master of deceit.

the written word, the double-edged sword,
slices through the marrow, but not often
to mend or bring the peace which
simply knowing often brings.

instead the truth resides within
not the tools… not the pen and ink before me,
but within the soul of he who writes them.
the heart of he whose fingertips
hold the instrument within their grip.

the poet speaks his very life
within the shaky breath and the
weak knees, the tears and soft caresses,
imparted one upon the other.
love, like a river flowing,
soul to soul and heart to heart.

such is the cadence of words
presented with hands outstretched before you.
let eyes meet eyes and hands meet hands
and therein lies the truth.

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