Tag Archives: Love

Gaze

I look into your eyes till you become a feeling and desire consumes my heart. I no longer see us, I feel the space that’s always one pulse away from something unexplainable. A place where love pales in comparison.

I keep writing in hopes of finding the words; in the same manner I keep looking deeper into your eyes hoping to find that space where you and I no longer are us. Where a minute is eternity.

Your eyes are embedded in my soul. I breathe to see you past anywhere sight could take me. Blinded by the beauty of us. The beauty of two people without a world to cloud the light of love.

I no longer look at you; I’ve seen what loving deeply means. Your gaze draws me within myself where the embers of us burn forever. Your eyes are like a soft breeze igniting memories and hopes into the fire of now.

Every time I look in your eyes is like looking into the lucid heat of a mirage. I feel the heat of our love warming my soul and suddenly the world melts around us. So I’m lost within now stretched across moments and space, hiding from time and the world, lost within you.

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Her sense

Listen to her words, don’t just hear her
She’s speaking to her own heart for you to hear

Why do you speak to her in that tone which is yours
When all you have to do is whisper to her pain and sorrow

So take the time to feel her soul with your hand in hers
Not pulling or squeezing, just patiently awaiting that moment she knows

It’s easy when you put yourself aside for one glorious moment and you realize time is the elixir that soothes your desires for her needs

Then, the beauty of her scent reminds you of past passions and future dreams and you can taste tomorrow in all the sweetness that comes with inhaling her breath as part of your life

With love

I can still feel my heart still as you slid uncontrollably down flat rocks
Along cascading waters on a sister dare. The edge of fear and elation you rode on gave sisters confidence and mothers a heart attack.

I remember watching you ascend the “X-rock first with your helmet facing the horizon and spaghetti straps intertwined through your lead rope. You climbed through the fear and strength with a purpose; giving confidence to your sisters through smiles and laughter.

I remember watching you jump your horse over poles and barrels leaving the definition of freedom wisping in the air like a cloud of confidence.

Then showing your horse, who’s nerves waited on you to calm her feet. You twisted and pulled till it was time to jump and I watched your Momma and sisters stare in wonder at your bravery as you jumped in the air of freedom and ribbons.

Countless times I’ve seen you step out first fighting fear for your sisters and others. Wether it was on a softball field or ballet stage, in a shop in Mexico or a school at home. You always stepped up when others stepped back.

Now you’ve taken a big leap. You’re gonna start a whole new chapter in your life in a few short weeks. Again, you’re gonna be first and to listen to you, you’d think you were “an old pro”!

I always saw through your bravery. You were always brave for others fear. You stepped up to ease the anxious nature of others. From the time you got your “Leadership Medal” in Kindergarden you were destined to lookout for others, and look at your career, you’re doing what is in your heart.

I know in those silent moments you have your own doubts and fears. I also l know that you’ll find a way to overcome those anxious moments with grace. You’ll probably spend those last moments reassuring others and wondering “what the hell have I got into now”!! Don’t worry, I promise you you’ll do good and Cooper will capture your heart and make all the questions dissipate like the sun on the mist over a pond as it rises.

I’m excited for you and I love you. I hope you remember to breathe and look around at all the folks that love you and David. All the folks that will share the endless moments of pride and joy Cooper is gonna bring to everyone. This is a first for you.

I say that it’s a first for you, not because you’ve never done this before, but because you are about to redefine love in a way you can’t imagine until Coopers here. That’s something for you to embrace at a level you’ll understand later, this first is for you and David, no one else.

I know you’ll prepare for that day. I’m sure you’ll be ready for every eventuality. You’ll prepare and share what you learnt about the latest techniques and toys. You’ll make plans that will fall apart and you’ll ask yourself, “What was I thinking!” It’s all good though because no matter how much you prepare you can’t prepare for life after your baby comes and that makes me smile.

Congrats on still being the first! I’m so excited for you, and a David, but especially you. Try your hardest to soak up the love around you throughout these next weeks. Try to let go of “what if” and enjoy the scenes around you. Those folks in the waiting room are part of the beauty.

You’ve been the first for me many times. This is a probably my last letter to the you who has brought me so much love and joy through years of joy and pain. I love you and can’t wait to watch you grow once again into the Momma you’ll become from the girl I adored.
Love
Dad

Curse of the Babbling Friend

Sometimes I never find the right words. Stolid seems to wooden, stalwart to posthumous, nothing really fits. I ramble on through cob webbed memories of vocabulary searching for the thought that clears my mind, all in vain.

I know all the cliche’s about “blank slates” and canvasses; but good friends deserve better. I struggle intermittently with “the right thought” to convey something much bigger than you would require. Like a dog with fleas I pause every now and then and go at it like there’s no tomorrow; and damned if there ain’t.

Handshakes are easy. The customary hug with the extra squeeze is comforting. For me though, it’s never enough. I don’t make excuses. Reasons are often selfish explanations, and factors just explain excuses. So in the end I guess words don’t matter as much as the effort.

It’s funny how a phone call can be a bridge to “the next time”. It’s never enough and sentiments are easy when you pretend someone is near. It’s “sweet” of you to make the effort. Then there’s the silent caveat that lingers like a speech bubble in a cartoon, if only I took the time when we were together.

Things left unsaid aren’t alway good, or bad either. Most of us have things we don’t say. The bubble is always there, but everyone’s left to just feel the thoughts, rather than hear the words. Our judgement is clouded by the unknown responses or our own demons.

There is a way to say anything, that seems to be a gift most folks don’t have. I suffer from not being able to write it or say it at times; or maybe even worse, say it or write it the wrong way. It’s that one word that says it all correctly that eludes me until after I say or write the wrong thing that haunts me.

This is why I write, how I care. I can edit what’s on my page. What I say is etched in time. One wrong word in the right moment can’t be edited without intense drama.

It’s not always that dramatic, but it is always that important to me. Sometimes it’s simple things like forgetting a phone call or visit. These situations beg for the right sentiment, but only leave me looking forgetful or uncaring, of which I’m neither.

It seems in hindsight the right words aren’t important between friends. The other speech bubbles I never see are the ones that say “I’m caring” because I tried. I have excuses because I care. I have reasons because I want you to know; and all the factors together mean I want you to understand that you’re important.

Maybe this is where writing and I fall short. It’s the words, the bubbles, and the actions together that satisfy our soul. Love is the only word that conveys this triad of affirmation.

For me the right “word” is important. I don’t expect to hear it or see it, but I strive to write, say, or demonstrate it. I’ve fell short more times than I care to remember. I’ve been speechless in words, actions, and thought. I’ve regretted not having the right words, and having the right words at the wrong time. I never regret trying.

So if I’m speechless know I’m caring enough to think. Silence is a word and an action that conveys concern. It’s when I’m at my best unfortunately. It’s not that I don’t care or you’re not important. It’s that you are worth the right word that not even bubbles and hugs can explain.

Giving Back

I hesitate, my instincts too far beyond my surroundings

Alert, in tune with my heartbeat and the earths warnings

Now I must stop and seek cover from what I fear

Not cowering, not hiding, but living on the edge of finality it’s clear

Trust is the luxury of believers, I’m not a believer anymore, I’m here

Somewhere between safe and sound, I can no longer wander

It serves me well to stay in the shadows, alert and alive

I don’t need the lie anymore. I know under that beautiful garden there’s violence and decay, things we know, but don’t speak of

Don’t sell me assurances you can’t provide, I’m safe alone

I’m tired of all these people I have to be just to make your world complete

It’s been so long you don’t know which one is me, because you fell, fell into the trap and got ensnared in the one that you could never be for more than a moment

I was hear all along watching you melt under the light of an abstract dream. It was warm for a moment, but only the sun can bring true light, true warmth. The others just illuminated what they wish you to see, what they want you to be

Now your not human, not a person, but a part of something so much bigger than you that you can’t see it’s nothing, you’re nothing. You’ve been put to sleep in someone else’s dream.

Not I. I am wild, but free. I feel the heat of the day and shiver in darkness under the moons glow dreaming of sunrises.

What good is a sunset anyway. The end of a day shouldn’t be honored, it should be remembered. Where did we learn to worship the end of anything, it’s beginnings that have hope. All we have in sunsets are reflections and regrets

So I’ll keep your smile and give you back your watch. I’ll keep the sound of your voice, but give you back your words. You’ll need your hands, so I’ll leave with your touch gently caressing my heart. Everything else belonged to the world anyway.

Of Nature and Desire

Concentrically narrowing foliage chokes my optimism with caution. Thorns and petals stalk my path to a less humid endeavors. But this is how truth hides, just beyond the greenery withering in all of us.

The canopy has levels that reveal light one shard at a time, until your above the tangle of vines where there is no forest floor. All you see is beauty framed by heaven as fresh air wisps away the rot decaying below.

If only I could fly away to stone. An edifice imagined. Stolid and thoughtful granite curves that time hides. Water cascades over the riffs she’s etched in my strength. Sun glistens on the darkness creating black rainbows in the mist, and lichen warms the crevices of my souls.

The beauty of this carnage we call nature is odd, like love it takes great pains and grows with time, only to be passed on to the budding life below. The tallest trees see it while taking warmth from above, mocking us as their roots draw from our strength. Their saplings without us withering in the clutches of vines, but it’s beauty to the naive.

Life is a beautiful struggle between our nature and our ideals, between our needs and desires. Inside us the biological and psychological battles constantly feed on us like the worms that till our soul, but all we see are faces as we paint our landscape with beauty.

A Brush With Life

If pictures can paint a thousand words, our words can paint a million pictures, so speak your mind carefully. Remember that your heart and mind beat as one in a delicate balance.

The art of life is free within the confines of our physical world, but our thought, our dreams, are a world without boundaries. A gallery of wonder revealed within every vessel of hope. Create with your mind and paint your spirit with the rainbow of light.

Death looms for most, a release for a few, and a new beginning for others. The patina of time glimmers on fading memories like water colors running on canvas. A landscape of light melding into a blur of colors washing what was coherent. This is why the light within the tunnel is surrounded by darkness, we become the color.

Be your own portrait, don’t be painted by time or circumstance. Everyone’s an artist. Some with their hands, others with their minds. The difference in the medium is irrelevant, it’s the one who choses their brush carefully and let’s their heart move their hands that creates beauty.