Life Within Blue Skies Now, My Friday, My Love

I just went out that day to catch some waves... Or maybe I fell to the sea from the sky, flown too close to the sun in some past life—just a fantastic fool languishing in the background of a forgotten painting from long ago... Fallen Splash Unnoticed Unseen Nothing Nothing Undoing Unbeing Wet and smouldering Wounds and nerves. Ball of burning Smiling urn... II soaked for ages, relegated to the shallows. I stayed any would-be rescuer with the remains of my eyes—sockets of dirty salt,. ashen sand— I—a sunken shipwreck boiler spitting coals— the cold conclusion of my story, cut short— "I'm done for." My sails, furled, my colors, folded— the wind in my spirit becalmed. I see the shore, My feet touch the shifting floor, yet, in spite of all thi's, I'm drowning— I'm fading "I'm done." You just went out that day to catch some waves... Or maybe you were carried out by a wave that transcended the night and the day, within and without, then and now. Perhaps each moment, come as a bead of jade along a gradient golden string, proves equally valuable when one's jumpy feline magistrates —those fussy measurers, constantly meting out judgements from the busy-body courthouses of our minds— when this mercurial kitty-cat chorus is relieved of its station and given to rest at one's feet.. Sentences dished out become dishes of milk, hours of anxious anticipation or reflective sorrow become museums for the soul to contemplate a continuous stream of art—strolling and perusing, investing ourselves in appreciation at our leisure Maybe you were a wave, carrying your body's sensual news: blithe warming crowds,. bonestuff shells, sands,. caressing your feet, varied textures of speckled sunshine grains reflecting spectrum blessings that shine on your skin, ultraviolet mirages tickle your nose, the smell of oil and salt, talkingsounds, watersounds, breaking crashing " evaporating sounds surf in your searing conch ears, wax loving a wood-grain board, loving you, bodies close, belly paddle, fingers cold prunes, genuflect for Mother Ocean, rise, feel— Now. Balance. Now. Stillness in movement constant. Now. The radial unfolding of the moment like petals and feathers. Now. A gentle process, approached and approaching. Now. Green eyes glowing, she comes as motion... Now. New life came to me as a wave.. And as that which was carried upon it: the very flower of my love. From you, I have learned why we must sometimes swallow the bitter draught of loss before we can truly taste what's best, before we can discern acrid brine from holy spirits, from cups of wine blessed by lovers' lips... Why we must sometimes share our cup with silences before we set it down, appreciate the valleys and the forests—mum and golden-where contemplation and trees quietly wash the feet of giants snow capped mountains—a stark relief, a desperately needed grounding when so many currents of thinnest air weather our faces, blast our peaks with the hollow ringing of dishonest speech... That when our time comes to sit it is right that we should fall-to our knees if need be-and exhaust our pride like rain from haughty clouds, remembering who we are in our lakes, rivers, and seas: finding communion in defining ground... That the song of love birds is laughter, that even a Phoenix flies finer as part of a flock. From even the least of your looks I've learned that angels live in the gleaming green iris of each verdant eye adorning your marble face fair like emeralds endowed with shining powers—your stare vanquishing demons, putting to sleep my fears in righteous bowers... And even in your own sleep are you my teacher; I've learned to envy your lucky lids, heavy in the night with a treasure they keep tightly hidden, lightly fluttering like the golden butterflies that found flight in my stomach and chest the first time we kissed... I would steal that treasure, keeping it firmly fixed in my coveting gaze, letting the hourglass sands of time rain down on us to the last grain of creation, concealing us forever, entrapped in love, not a map to be found revealing us in our sacred mound learned to be patient to wait, savor, & cherish all of you. One year. I've learned all this, and by all this, I've grown. How many times has this glittering green world in her shimmering blue gown wrapped herself around her hot-tempered king? Or is it the other way around? But what matter? Can there be a mover but for his beloved moved? Can the painter who works canvas skies in atomic streaks of ultraviolet hues blind us with saturate beauty but for his worldly muse? One revolution, 584 million miles, a cosmic ring tracing symphonic daydreams through silent dust—One revolution, the violent love for the part of myself that loves peace, that knows love, that waited, locked in a dungeon of my own making, a cage of negative thoughts curled into cast-iron bars where a long-forgotten furnace of pain waits in the dark side of my shame, sharing my name because of this daily mistake: the belief that the cage was me and II was the cage, that somebody else in the dark was my cruel keeper, possessing the key— you did not come bearing my key, you did not unlock my cage, nor did you set me free. By the light of your example, It was compelled to look and see the reality of my supposed confinement: that I was the one holding too tightly, gripping the bars for dear life in the deepest depth of a cave beneath my heart, that I could simply turn away, and follow the way back from the place where once I came from, the light, the freedom, the love—for myself, love all, for you, my all, witness to the overthrow of the oppressor whose tattered rags I have thrown off my back: the tyrant of my despair and my fear. You were there. You were there, my love. 584 million miles with you, my little Lotus love, 584 million miles and then some, but some can never be enough between us—any difference remaining in space or place, between us, is just too much to bear, near can never be too near between us... Let our squares become circles and our circles become spheres, let our tongues fall from orbit and merge into meaning, speaking the world into being: an expression of our love, savoring the flavors of existence, together as one, forevermore... I need your flaming heart to beat in my chest, I need my dreams to be born in your head, I need your blood to pour through me like diamonds, I need what I feel and your sense to be wed... Let us roll into one great ball and float on down the overflowing river of our passion, toppling over the last waterfall at the end of the map, falling with the oceans and clashing, settling, combining into one great soul—making new what once was old, beginning anew from the start, just as the journey we've taken together around the sun has brought us back to the same point in space where you first lighted my dark, lover. Do you see the pure smoke rolling out from my core as full-throated crywords, lover? Do you recognize this fire that you started, lover? It keeps me warm. It demands to reach out and caress you as music, as orchestra, as poetry for your listening skin...receive me with raised hair by raised bumps that tingle: a standing ovation, lover I'd bow; I can't bow low enough; still, you absolve my sin of showing off... Take my hand slowly, we'll dance upon the thinnest blade, the crest of this wave. Let night set, let moon rise with sun, let my being thaw, dissolve, and meld into you like the melting horizon, the melting line between the waters and skies, the foam and the shore your life and mine: the lotus flower taking flight, the phoenix blooming in the night—for love! For love! My little Lotus love!