“I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.”
– Michael Ondaatje, ‘The English Patient’.
I bathed in moonlight and scented myself in the night. I dressed ritually, as if for a wedding or some other rite of passage. Finally, soothed, prepared, cloaked to absorb some of my unseemly iridescence, I enter the scene. I know this is the right place and moment. My glance takes in the room mentally checking my celestial clock… right on time. I see him glance up and smell the air. I pass through the room lyrically dancing between the press of swaying intoxicated bodies, smiling knowingly and with warning at the men attempting to intercept my path. They fall away hearts pounding as they watch me move beyond them. You feel my approach turning as I confidently pause. We have not yet entered each others proximity but you know. Your hazel yellow eyes widen and your cloak deepens as you extend a hand. I meet your gaze with my impossible blue eyes as I take your hand I let my cloak fall before you. Lifetimes of faces dance between us as you devilishly smile. Yes you remember me; I have found you once again. My hair still echoes my movement, such little real time has passed. Laughing deeply you take in my smile and offer me a drink. More devil than human you hope to diminish my angelic charm. We have danced this night a thousand times, a thousand different ways, perhaps tonight we might get it right? With a gleam in my eye I reply, “I’ll have an Angel’s Delight.”
Sleep escaped me. Exhausted I sought her with desperation yet she fled me amused. Words that had been pent up, bound by circumstance, eager for freedom burst forth laughing, cohering with sleep, defying my ability to close my mind. Do not expect a miracle I am all out of those as I reach beyond for a beauty sensed but misplaced, lucid at the edge of the dream world, asleep within the real. I reach for hope in her glorious flight, yet find faith, strangest of creatures to taste today. Deep within me an infant galaxy stirs misplacing time as I walk resurrected holding hands with courage we talk of distant suns and a past remade. As finally my eyes close they are kissed awake by loving sun and I pass into dreaming my life.
Gratitude as a way to walk with others
Beneath the heavy weight of life I learn to swim, I feel the changing tides of sentiment and dance with them. I hear the beloved in every word and speak only of truth and gratitude. Harsh realities soften in waters well tamed, words heard slower so the real is touched not ego. Change is easier submerged in the waters of life; remember the heartbeat that called you into being, the sounds of the world smoothed by the body of the mother who bore you. Fallen we forget and taste bitterness. Fallen we loose sight of the beauty we knew before we were, before we were not. Fall into the deep embrace of the beloved see into the reflection, not Narcissi but the true.
At times, when I stop listening I hear them. If I listen forcefully I hear only harsh critic. If I quiet myself the whisper becomes clearer, almost song. Noise crowds them out with hate and malice. I know they are there the dark ones that draw me from myself, and the beautiful that invite me into myself. My soul a metronome, rhythmically tuning between the poles; between the lost and found; between the ache of love and the sting of loneliness; between the nonsensical and the sublime; between faith and fear. Paradoxes all. As the light and the dark, neither one without the other in this strange haunting land. Yet I hear them, the distant stars, the grains of sand; they sing of each breath as a chance to taste heaven within this world.