Free Verse # 426 (where everything is turning)

Her kiss on my wrist
I felt it melting
a river reaching down
to the bed of my childhood
then rising back up
through my past
through my spine
carrying me into the soft glow
of a flower in the sun

~

When we were children
we watched the bubble
and wondered
how high it would go
before it pops…
seeing your face
my heart swelled
but failed to lift off the ground
– it popped instantly!

~

Like the inside of a wave
where everything is turning –
my mind when I think of you

~

He loved her light; she craved his soul.

~

To her words and silence, to the motion of her being, the energy of her light – I listen and respond from the center of my heart.

~

This longing
has left me bare,
a field grazed
by a thirsty fire
now holding out
a single flower
like a prayer
to your moon.

~

I felt like her face
brushing against mine
could make the whole world
flower;
though I woke up
and it was just a dream
I sensed a faint burning
in the night air.

~

I hold you in my heart
the way the sky at dawn
keeps the echo
of the first birdsong

~

I am waiting for you on the curve of the great unknown that we could meet and together vanish inside the great mystery.

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Free Verse # 425 (the circle of longing)

In our hearts
we are not so different,
all of us are a tapestry
weaved of this longing
for something
that never comes,
something
that is always coming.

~

Searching for things
to fill up the emptiness,
the holes crushingly aching
deep within the heart,
I shed my clothes and turn
to the ocean of love.

~

In the land of death
love gave me a new name
but whispered in my ear:
its letters
I alone must discover,
its meaning
I alone must live.

~

The moon’s light
enters through the window
and the circle of longing
is complete,
emptiness upon emptiness
and the aching dust
of so many years
catch fire and ignite –
waiting is over
the candle whispers;
everywhere I turn
I see fire
and feel myself flowing
in rivers to the sea.

~

Cross-legged you sit
watching the burning flames,
and I from across the bonfire
sit watching your face.

~

Through the gap
of a thousand years
you whispered to me.
Since I found your heartbeat
alive in my own heart
I learned to find you
in every moment of life,
in every joy or sorrow.
Beloved,
we are in the breath
of all the lovers
that ever were or will be,
we are their consuming fire,
their calm and shuddering joy.

~

Though imperceptible
it is the most solid reality,
my love for her
is like the wind at dawn
rousing to a wakefulness
the slumbering flowers.

You, Beloved

You
who lives inside of me
though I keep looking for you
in the outer world;
you
whose fire immolates my heart
without completely killing it,
threading it, instead,
thin and empty
like the rose of the sky;
you
who loved me
before I had a name,
before my parents bore me;
you
who will subsume my being
as I surrender my breath and die;
you, beloved,
crushing me with longing
and making sure
that I won’t survive
unless I become a thread
in the book of love.

Free Verse # 424 (Who is the lover? Who the beloved?)

She is waiting for him
at the crossroads of a place
where poems converge
with something deep and infinite

~

All night long
holding his poem
against her ear,
an ocean brimming
with the waves
of his love.

~

I opened up to her
trusting her with the fall
of my heartbeats
into her open palms,
of my hands
weary and aching
to course the river of infinity
flowing along her skin.

~

All fire begins
with a single thought,
the thought of her touch.

~

My poem
a ship of fire roving
her infinite waves

~

Who is the lover?
Who the beloved?
In this fragrance
we have dissolved;
no one remains but love!

~

Her poem, overtime,
hollowed my heart out
like rocks being carved
by moving water;
my soul now inhabits
an empty space,
and wherever it moves
her presence
is the gravity vector
rooting it in place.

I want to touch her

I want to touch her
with the reverence of a candle
for the stillness of the night,
with the awe of a saint
uttering the name of God,
with the longing of a birdsong
for the first light of dawn.

I want to touch her
with the ache for the rain
after a long season of drought,
with the sigh of a breaking bud
anticipating the air and light,
with the joy of burning incense
as it rises to the sky.

I want to touch her
as an oak seed taking root
on the mountain high,
as a stream of thawing snow
from cliff to cliff runs,
with the red lips of a poem
writing the history of mankind.

I want to touch her
like eternity blossoms
in the present moment,
like the breath of the seasons turns
with the endless wheel of time,
I want to touch her
and for this touch to be
my breath and life.