One

Sacred geometry, the divine , the ethereal properties and affinities of our inner selves. One higher point reaching, straining to bridge with another. Elevated, and from such a vantage point only love can understand the shifting landscape below.

Heaven will only know what only my eyes can say, for they have watched you sleeping, beauty faithful to nature’s graces. Peer beyond the aqueous lens, stare unblinking through my pupils and witness that which sets my heart aloft.

One kiss is all it took to bring me here. One breathless rush of warmth and velvet.

One glimpse . . .

One proof of mortal angels . . .

One apparition of Cytherean adoration . . .

One true woman

 

I Will Love You Anyhow

I took a cold, hard look at the way we live

and how it’s so hard to forgive.

When you cannot see beyond a doubt

I will love you anyhow

Honey we have cried these tears before

But we never closed the door on the dream we shared

When we started out

Didn’t you love me anyhow?

Wasn’t that love that got us through?

You can count on me, I could always count on you

When your faith is lost and can’t be found

I will love you anyhow

People change, as they often do

Has that much changed between me and you?

If your hope is gone in your darkest hour

I will love you anyhow

I never took a vow I meant to break

Lord we both made our mistakes

It’d be a foolish thing to give up now

Honey, I love you anyhow

Wasn’t that love that got us through?

You could count on me, I could always count on you

‘Til they bury me in the cold, hard ground

I will love you anyhow

I will love you anyhow

 

Remind Me

 

Into the night, reckless we go, filled with dreams of undefined illusion. The cloaked side of Heaven sparkles overhead, winking reminders to those who think and feel, that dawn will be soon enough.

We sometimes toss aside pretense while still wearing our armor, cautious yet still wanting, needing, for someone to see us for who we are, not what we are. Beneath the counterfeit shell we push aside the best advice of fools, step foot where our better angels dare not follow us—in the wrong light we may let our passions fulfill our demands.

Even the extremity of rationale may go unheeded. The clarion call of reason duped by the vanity of that which our eyes tell us we see.. What we truly crave is the touch of intangibility, the curve and flow of words caught upon the voice of intrigue; colloquy serves the true tenderness of night.

Please assure me there is more to be had than the value of our rusted armor . . .

Grant me some partial solace, a respite from all the dark falsity weaving tangled threads just outside our vision . . .

Allow me to delight in the unfolding story of something true . . .

Remind me, in the manner only you can, that while love is universal it is something unique to the night shared by the right person—and greater still when the sun arises.

 

Equivalent to the caustic sting of a paper cut; I have decided, for the
moment, in this ante moridiem consciousness, this is how best to describe my
self-inflicted misgivings.

It stings without being lethal. This wound burns for a couple of days, foaming at
each provocational thought I drip into its cellular chasm. Somewhere between
fallacious and stupid is the true ground I want beneath my feet, but conceit
weaves its pallid spell upon me, so much so that even my better angels cannot
lift me from the mire.

A mortal singularity to myself, my own worst enemy. I am the best saboteur I
know. Afraid to inquire, frightened of her response. Easier to embolden my own
pathetic rationales than to summon the courage to simply seek the answer.

I don’t want to lose her. Don’t want to know her voice as only remnants of
viscous memories.

Presently feeble in rectitude. The heart lays helpless while ego steps upon its
throat.

A hair-thin line of crimson darkens within the cleft.

I miss her.