Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures
~ Henry Ward Beecher
~ Henry Ward Beecher
She’s just one pair of shoes away from being a gypsy
because that’s just the way she is.
She moves, keeps on moving, in her body, in her life.
Actually, that’s what I like most about her,
and that’s what I hate about her.
I love the sunlight on her skin,
and how the wind plays with her hair,
I am grateful because he taught me how this is done.
This time.., her hair is jet black,
having the sheen of raven’s wings.
Are they gypsies too?
I imagine so, because they are so ‘here’ when they’re here.
Oft in bands, uncountable, sometimes as a sole spirit:
appearing to speak to me of mysteries and things unseen.
She’s just one pair of shoes away from being a gypsy,
one dance away from being gone, again.
What’s interesting is…, when she does return,
like a warm breeze in times too cool for comfort,
she is completely different.
I only can recognize her by her eyes.
I’m not saying by color and shape but only by the soul that lies within.
When we are together, I cherish the honey,
the sweetness of our now and I well know the sting as things die.
There are times I think she very well may be the devil in disguise,
returning to torture my heart again and again,
but I gain…, I grow from our encounters
Just one pair of shoes away from being a gypsy.
Maybe I can learn from her way of being, embrace it as mine own.
Yes…, its time to learn this lesson too,
to be free from the torment of waiting for her return.
This is for the lost and the lonely so I’ll no longer be counted amongst them.
It is time to dance to tunes unheard and gather travel dust on my shoes
til it falls to the ground like rain.
I just got a new pair of shoes today and I’m gonna dance to the horizon.
I feel that wandering spirit in the air,
no…, a warm breeze in times too cool for comfort.
The winds of change.
I believe I’ll be leavin’ now.
Hold love loosely, yeah… that’s my motto.
It’s been working for awhile. It’s beautiful,
hold those you love loosely.
Then…, if they go…,
they go, having loved them fully while they were here.
I haven’t ‘really’ loved since adopting this philosophy.
I have been loved, wonderful sweet connections,
deeply real with me being fully present for my part,
you might even call it… love, but not the ‘in love’ part.
that has been pretty much one way, directed to me.
Yes, it’s been a regular love fest
filling the air with the fragrance of apples,
Lovely scents to be sure,
enticing all matter of wondrous things.
Nice…, very nice…., sitting there fat and sassy,
comfortable atop my astute philosophy,
all the while holding love loosely;
it was a wonderful life, having become so evolved.
Then comes this pair of eyes.
I have heard them called the windows of the soul,
and now…, I know why.
Anyway, this particular pair of eyes came attached to the whole package,
and I mean…, the whole package, in my very own little ’whole package’ way.
Intelligence, wit, inner and outer beauty, but it’s the eyes,
those damn eyes, with their direct connection to eternity.
They…, THEY are the one thing that truly entrance me, enchant me.
This is new, so very new and I am swiftly lost in their story.
A story of past? A story of future? I just can’t tell at all, and this is – ME…
the one who reads between the lines,
who dances with adversity with a certain fluidity.
Wait, wait…, where are my feet, what the hell.
I am rattled, shaken and feeling so off balance.
It is all so…, so…, very maddening, and…, I am rapidly lost.
Magic hours, words flow unbridled,
secrets dare the light of the moment,
truth hangs in the air, sweet, like jasmine in springtime.
Hurts are revealed, raw…, but finding a balm in this time of tenderness.
Yes, souls…, shown in their nakedness. And..,
bodies, they too…, are shown in their nakedness.
A meeting of lips, hers are amazingly, and…, comfortably familiar.
Where our chests meet, our hearts can be felt beating…
just a mere breath apart.
And in her eyes, the universe lays within.
What the hell is going on.
Suddenly, in our world stood still,
time and commitment – intrudes like a lightning bolt, (god I hate clocks).
Then it is… hasty goodbyes, pausing for a few heartbeats, uncounted,
ending with a sweet caress and, a lingering hug.
Blink…, blink…, she is gone.
Sleep flees me that eve, haunted by eyes, eternal eyes, her eyes.
Fate…, does not let our paths cross for a few days, and…,
when we meet, we talk briefly. For her…, relationship is not allowed.
So walk away is what I must do, should do, I do… do.
Yet when I close my eyes, there she is.
So unfamiliar this place I now am in.
Then comes ‘round another random meeting, polite to be sure,
and it ends with us wrapped in a tender hug,
all the while her heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it… yet…,
away she walks.
Thereafter, she can be seen but I am unseen, invisible.
I do not exist.
This is about the time I remember…, my philosophy.
Hah, easier said than done but now it is time to truly live it.
So…, now I do…, now I do not…, now I do…,
each heartbeat, each minute, each hour, each day,
and all the while – it hurts, it fucking hurts.
I guess it is the same with bodies,
as it is with hearts, it hurts while it heals.
Ahhh…, learning to hold love loosely, not mere words anymore,
such as those that used to fall so easily from my mouth,
but…, for real.., real – to hold love loosely.
Once upon a time I would hear people speak of Spring Fever and thought WTF?
On a balmy day (feeling as if lifetimes ago), not too long together with my love, the atmosphere rested heavy on my shoulders, as if Atlas bearing the Earth, a restlessness arose from my core. The desire to ride the steed of dreams was overwhelming. Duty and responsibility barely held me at bay. Never forgotten this soul’s urge.
Unannounced, Unexpected and Haunting, these winds of change have returned again & again to caress and sing their siren song of seduction to me igniting times of great restlessness
Now, especially as of late, they have again returned but things are different. I have discovered that the tethers that held me in times past have aged, and, with little effort and a lot of faith will simply fall away.
This time I very well may dance the dervish of change with these familiar spirits