What you feel is life, what you live is another story.
Tom is a stroke survivor, a seeker, a meditator, a veteran firefighter and rescue tech, a motivational speaker, a poet, and a blogger (new site) & author. He is also the father of three and as their student and teacher, has found applying spiritual practices to all aspects of life provides a vast amount of possibility and abundance. Tom has discovered that true forgiveness is the key to a pure heart, and a pure heart can lead us to wondrous experiences.
You can also connect with tom on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Tomgwriter55/".
When I closed my eyes I could feel her bare breasts pressing firmly on my chest as my fingers worked magic through her hair, our tongues wrestling in the glow of a moon in full worship of our love. I felt the full grasp of her womanhood as she took hold of me, and I knew deep down that this embrace would be difficult to end.
Coming soon to Elephant Journal! It will be shared on my Facebook page when it is published.
In the rays of light that caress me through my window, I feel it.
Through her words, often spoken in moments of deep emotion, I feel it.
In the deepest moments of insecurity and loss when she offers you safe haven, I feel it.
Through the rapid wind where she vanishes like the mist, I feel it.
Love.
Love is often lost in the modern sense of things. It is like a drink we often drink too fast, like fine dining we have replaced with fast food and drive-thru windows. We seek it quickly, lose it rapidly, and then wallow in the effects of our choices for days.
We fall in love for various reasons, not realizing that every reason to fall in love is the wrong one. Love has no reason. In fact, love is often unreasonable, and it takes us to uncomfortable places we’d often never choose to visit. Love just happens for no reason at all, except that it wants to.
We refuse to fall in love for various reasons, not realizing that every reason to reject love’s advances is the wrong one. Love is often unreasonable, and when the undertow of the its great ocean pulls us in we can either choose to relax and go along for the ride, or fight and drown in its mighty current.
Sometimes we’ll drown either way. The point is, however, how we choose our demise. Do we choose it in ease or in struggle, in panicked chaos or peaceful acceptance of the realization that we are not really in control?
Lovers are unreasonable beings trying to make reasonable choices with ideas that don’t really exist. They fight with themselves often, as the pull of what they were taught opposes the reality of what they are experiencing. Gone is the “way it should be” replaced by “the way it is.” It can be a painful process, depending on how new the experience is.
Conventional wisdom doesn’t work with lovers. Love is unconventional, and applying the laws of physics to it drives it to oblivion. The best lovers dance to the song written within them, knowing full well their true partner will be dancing the same rhythm without even knowing it.
So, when the rays of sunlight caress me through my window, I feel it. I want to share it, and I want to know it. I want to pull her close and let her feel the warmth too. I want to kiss her while squinting in the light, pull her close as our bodies glow in its effect.
When she speaks, I can feel it. If you want proof that words are energy just sit still and listen to your lover. Regardless of the words, you will feel each of them. Her words will flow through you and over you like a warm fire during a blizzard. In fact, you may not even realize the blizzard until you listen to her speak. The tone and sound of her voice will give you pause, and you’ll find yourself needing more.
When you feel lost and abandoned, unsure of everything around you, she is there. Like bedrock in the sand she holds your weight, letting you know that you have nothing to fear. She’ll grab your face and your eyes will be drawn to hers like the Moon to the Earth, and you will know. All is in order even in the chaos, and all is as it should be even in the turmoil of your boiling cauldron.
When she vanishes, you will feel it. Whether it be an hour, or a day, or a week, her absence will scour your body like the roughest wool. When she gets busy with those “other things” you will feel her absence. It will sting you like the harshest wind-swept sand, and ensure that you never take her presence for granted again.
That is love. Unreasonable, unconventional. Painfully beautiful. Like the mud puddle your parents told you not to play in, simply roll around in that stuff. Get dirty, and she’ll get dirty with you. Then, if you are lucky, she’ll help you get clean.
But that’s another story…
I just reviewed what I had wished for in 2014. At first, I chuckled at the things I had scribbled down late last year. I looked at the rather short list and snorted in an all-too-familiar human way, thinking about how far off what I received from what I asked for was.
Then, I heard my son and daughter laughing at something in the next room. It gave me pause, and offered me a chance to reflect on what I had truly been given in 2014.
Here is the very short list I compiled at the end of a very tough 2013 detailing my requests for the coming year:
See, this is your generic spiritually active guy’s list. It stays pretty general, but does offer what I see as a non-greedy request of the Universe for things that could make this life a bit more enjoyable, this experience a bit more blissful. they are certainly in line with the life I wish to live.
Yet, when I reviewed these requests a few moments ago, I scoffed. I still have not met the love of my life. My life seems to be chaotic with no real clear sense of direction. My health is in shambles, having had both congestive heart failure and a stroke in 2014.
So, it seems that 2014 was a failure as that list goes. Yet, I am readily able to suggest that I have found one thing on the list that I achieved in 2014, and that is peace.
Yes, peace. I feel more at peace in my life despite the turmoil than I ever have. Despite the ailments, the uncertainty and chaos, I feel more at peace now than I ever have.
That peace allowed me to be quiet enough in my reaction to hear my children laughing in the next room. Then came the realization.
I had gotten everything I had asked for.
While I have not physically met the “she’s perfect for me and I want to be with her for the rest of my life” partner, I have found love in many ways. I will say that when you feel close to death not once, but twice over the course of a few months, you begin to see things differently. Very differently.
First, I say I have not “met” that love. She’s there, though, and I know her. I write about her, and I speak to her often. She’s coming, that is clear, I just need to continue to be patient and be open to the possibilities.
Love, though, is all around me. It was in the health care professionals who cared for me. It was in the friends who stepped up and helped me despite my attempts to “take it on my own.” It was in the kids who missed me, the cats who suddenly lay with me, and in the reaction of those who read my writing. It’s in the sounds of the waves for which I never grow tired, and the idea of the mountains I will climb with my little ones one day.
Love is in the loss of friends who no longer serve a positive purpose, making room for those who will. It’s in the constant change I use to fear that now I accept, and in the new-found acceptance of my own mortality. It’s in the acceptance of me, the love I have for myself, which is something I never fully realized until this year.
Yes, 2014 brought me lots of love. Just not in the way I had thought I wanted it.
On the face of it, my life looks like everything but secure. For reasons I can’t really share right now, my life seems like one chaotic, uncertain mess. Yet, I have never felt more secure. Things are happening around me that provide me with comfort even through the chaos.
I once thought security meant a good-paying job in a sound market with no one getting in my way. I once thought making money was the way to security, and that the more I owned the more secure I was.
Today, after another tough year, I find security in simplicity. I see it as only having what I need, and needing what I have. I find security in the cuddles of my children, and the voice from within that just knows I am on the right path. I care less about what others think and find more comfort from within than ever before.
So, while 2014 didn’t offer me a lot of traditional security, it did provide me with the type of security that isn’t dependent on the whims of others, and that is certainly much more than I bargained for.
I’ve developed an inner strength I never had before. A confidence that I have never experienced in my life, and a courage that has never been matched. That, my friends, is real security.
This is the most perplexing one. I had simply written “Health” on my little sheet of paper.
Six months after putting this list together, I was in the hospital with congestive heart failure brought on by malignant hypertension. Fluid had suddenly built up in my lungs during physical exertion and I couldn’t breathe. A friend rushed me to the Emergency Room.
For a man who is used to finding calm and serenity through breathing, not being able to breathe was more than frightening. I was gargling, coughing up large amounts of fluid, and unable to catch my breath.
Whenever I’ve felt fear, whether it was while working a house fire, or dealing with something while SCUBA diving, or climbing a ladder (I have a real fear of falling), breathing would bring me serenity. I learned that as a child, “just breathe” and I could get through anything.
So, when I couldn’t breathe, well you can imagine what that did. It seemed high blood pressure, that “silent killer” you hear so much about, had decided not to be so silent anymore. It nearly killed me.
Yet, I was released from the hospital with a prognosis that suggested with management of my blood pressure, I would make a full recovery and my heart would return to normal. I was quickly weaning off of the drugs they put me on as my body responded well to treatment, including eating a low-sodium diet. I was down to one pill a day within a month, much better than the 7 I started out with.
I’ll be the first to admit I am a horrible dietitian. Don’t get me wrong, I understand what I should be eating, but I’m horrible at eating it a majority of the time. Maybe it’s because I can burn water in the kitchen, and frequently have to ventilate the house after making dinner. Yet, I was on the right track, and I was really trying.
Then came the end of October. It seems that a small clot had traveled to a part of my brain called the cerebellum. I spent 24 hours feeling vertigo, and believed I was getting sick or some kind of ear infection. Then the numbness in my face began, and I lost control of the left side of my body. I might have “poked your eye out with that thing” if I was trying to shake your hand. I had no control.
I knew what was going on, and we got to the hospital quickly. The hospital seemed to think I was having a heart attack, and kept asking me “how bad is the pain in your chest?”
“I can’t tell, it’s numb,” I’d answer sarcastically until, finally, they got the hint.
“Code CVA” was what I heard shortly thereafter through the hospitals PA system, and I knew that was for me.
Soon, I was in a hospital that specialized in strokes, and from there my recovery was remarkable. I was provided contrast. Other people with strokes similar to mine were stuck with feeding tubes, unable to swallow. Some were bedridden with no balance, or ability to control their extremities.
Others were unable to see, their optic nerves completely disabled by the damage to their brain.
Yes, I got lucky.
When I first was asked to sit up, I couldn’t. I listed hard to the left. I had no sense of direction, no ability to tell left from right. My eyes were going haywire, unable to focus on anything at all. I just kept them closed, and listened to my first Eagles (that’s American football for those of you who don’t know) game with my eyes shut and my team losing. How dare they!
Within a week my eyes were getting better, and I was able to walk with much assistance. Within a week of that, I was able to climb stairs, with some assistance. I was discharged from rehab and sent on my way.
Today, I still struggle with dizziness and eye issues. Yet, I can walk for miles, work out to some degree, and have started developing my stamina again. I have new sense of how important my choices are, and how much I love to live this life.
Seems like I didn’t get my health, right? Well, the jury may be still out on this one, but I’d say I may have gotten exactly what I asked for.
Today, I make better food choices, and value my walks on the beach more than ever. I have regained my love of fruits and vegetables. I have a new understanding of my own body, and listen to it more than ever. I value my physical strength, and have made friends with the inner strength that has helped me through it all.
So, I’d say I have gotten my health request answered. Not just for now, but in the very long term.
In the loss of my health in 2014, I regained my sense of peace, my feeling of security, and discovered love all around me. In the gaining of those things I have regained my health. It’s been a beautiful cycle.
Now I see how I got exactly what I asked for even if I didn’t get it the way I thought I would. What have I asked for the coming year? Well, that list will be a secret until the end of next year but I assure you that I have a feeling I’ve already received most of it. We’ll see at the end of next year, if that ever comes, but until then just know that I realize that I will get what I ask for, just perhaps not in the way I expect it to be given.
See, I know now that what I ask for isn’t actually a statement of what I want, but rather a statement of what I feel I lack. Once I realize that there is little I lack, the list not only grows smaller, but also becomes inconsequential. It becomes a meaningless exercise in focus on what I don’t believe I have, instead of taking note of the things I’ve been truly blessed with.
So…off I go with my short list into the great beyond. Maybe.
Hurry baby…please.
There are so many things I need to tell you, so many things you need to hear.
Words alone won’t do them justice; such words have never been invented. They don’t exist, yet I need you to hear them.
Not with the ears that hear my sounds or the sounds of insanity in the world around us. No, I need you to listen with ears that don’t hear. I need to speak to you with a mouth that does not utter a sound.
Hear the rush of certainty as our fingers intertwine, as the heat of our bodies meets somewhere in the chill of the human realm.
Hear the call of my fingertips, answered quickly by the raised bumps formed as your skin to listens to my touch. I hear those beautiful, inaudible sounds of pleasure echoing in every space, repeating in every spot.
Hear my heart as your eyes begin to moisten, answering the lone tear dancing happily down my cheek. Such emotion fuels the raging fire within us; a fire that does not burn, but warms, that does not destroy but gives birth to eternity.
Hear my desire as your lips part to accept my kiss, our bodies growing limp in surrender. Feel the freedom in our embrace as we squeeze the weight of the world out from that space between us. Feel the light air in our heaven as we shed the veils we place around our human form.
Feel our love as we move to the beat of our own drum, our sweat mixing in dramatic pools and oceans that only we can see. I will hear you shudder your release, roar the song of a Lioness, and take from me all that I have to give.
Hear me speak now, my love, in ways left for the gods and goddesses who have found their altar and who have discovered their church. I need to tell you these things, and I need to listen to you.
Patiently impatient I am waiting, an empty hand reserved for you, an empty space left where you will lay. I know the wind knows, and when it catches your sail it will speed your ship to the port where I will be, waiting.
Hopelessly hoping I stand here, basking silently in the light sometimes hidden by strange clouds that will, eventually, blow away. With a still mind and closed eyes I can see that light, and with an open heart it warms my very Being.
Forever I will wait even as I implore you to hurry. Found I will be in the lost episodes of the people around me, for in the blur of their sleepwalking a sea will part, and there you will be standing.
A sigh. A pause. And then a quick run to your open arms when, finally, I can speak to you and tell you all the things I need to tell you. Be ready, for there are countless volumes I need to share.
I struggle, at times, to hear your voice, although I know it is never far my troubled ears.
I can remember those soul-filled vibrations that once rippled through my soul. I can remember closing my eyes, as if they were some new-age arms that would embrace your words, each demanding syllable, and never let them go. I can remember the warmth in the songs you sang, in the prayers you issued, and in the demands you offered that were somehow supposed to save me.
I can remember them all, yet I cannot hear your voice.
I recall the urgency in your pleas, the desperation in your tone. I can almost touch the drama in the space we shared, and I can almost feel the fear of loss shaking me to oaths I could never meet, rousing me to great heights of failure. I can recall the ice-cold feel of your touch, the horrible demands for something that neither of us could ever feel. I can recall the lonely testaments of love, and the protestations of eternity as the hangman’s noose slipped suredly around forever’s neck.
Yet despite the finality of the end, we were once there, together. Despite the promises of our shallow pits and weakness of our lazy knots, we were bound once in great certainty. Despite the broken oaths and great risk of failure even we, once, thought of eternity as nothing more than certain.
And even though we had fought our battles, and waged our wars, with words as our swords and love as our sacred battleground, I cannot remember your voice. I cannot hear your spoken battle cries, even as I wince as words flow out of others. I can no longer feel the raised protrusions of wounds on my skin even if I can feel the stiffness of their scars. I can no longer relish in the fools’ folly of promising wine from water, for I have sworn an oath to let water be good enough.
I bid you a fond farewell, my old soul. I welcome you to whatever paradise you’ve found not through my own extended hand, but through the hand much sturdier extended by a love more suitable to your liking. It is time, I say to you, to have our own flowers bloom and our own fields tilled by plows much better suited for the task.
It is in such liberation that we give another the promises of eternity we could never offer ourselves. It is in such potential that we find in others that we could never find in us. It is now we part, never to be whole, together, again.
Peace.
Dearest Love,
I want to go on a hike with you this morning. I want us to put our feet on the lonely path, where only silent trees and dampened leaves can hear our banter. I want to hold your hand steadily when crossing frigid waters on wavering fallen trees, and I want your voice to steady me when scaling the shaky climb. I want to hear the twigs crackle beneath your feet, and I want to stop with you when you find something you wish to cherish. I want to share with you my own sense of marvel, of miracle, and of life.
I don’t want to know our destination. I just want to arrive there with you. I want to see new and familiar views with you by my side. I want to hear the awe on your voice when nature provides its miracle, and feel the twitch of your hand when see things that your heart just screams with joy. I want to hear the love in your songs as we beat a path through the newness, and hear the truth in your words as you describe to me all that you see.
I want to rest with you in the most comfortable of places. Even the rigid stones of rocky fields will succumb to our journey. I want to lie with you under the Sun, and cuddle with you under the blanket of a starry night. I want to make love to you by a campfire with such intensity that it seeks warmth from us. I want nature to see us, for even the most loving of creations could use a reminder that man has not always forgotten his place among the trees.
I never want to leave this path with you. I want to hike the trail for as long as my legs will carry me, and then I just may crawl some. I want to drink from the bottomless cup, find warmth in the infinite fire that has always burned within us. I want to cry with you, laugh with you, and know we share the same earth on our feet and same air in our lungs even if we have not always shared the same footprint.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along. ~Rumi
We’ll carve that in a tree somewhere, a tree that begs us for the treasure. We’ll get all dirty in the process, and then wash each other in the warm, clear spring that can’t help but invite us in. I’ll watch you play under that waterfall until I can’t watch any more, and I have to play with you too. I’ll hold you firmly there, watching both the Sun and the Moon tease me in your loving eyes, and I will have no choice but to taste your waiting lips.
Yes, my Love. I want to go on a hike with you this morning. A long hike. A lifetime of footfalls and hand holds, of muddy stumbles and cleansing baths. of making love in places most would not dare to go. I welcome your embrace, your stare, your gently bitten lip, your jostled hair, your strength and your weakness. I long for your voice, your labored moans under the most pleasurable of effort.
I’m waiting for the one I already know, patiently and impatiently at the same time. I want you to hurry but at your own pace, I want you to arrive but not before you are ready.
Then we’ll begin. Not on the trail head of our journey, but on the trail head of the journey that is us. What a long hike that will be.
I heard it somewhere before. The sound had escaped my memory, but it could not escape each cell of my body as it reacted to it. Yes, I had heard it somewhere before.
She spoke to me like she had spoken to me a million times before. There were no awkward pauses, no uncertain grasps and inane commentary that made even stoic minds like ours seem awkward. Every word, every question and every response seemed to flow naturally like the script itself had not only been written long ago, but rehearsed countless times before now.
Yet I could not remember. This was our first conversation, regardless of how natural it all seemed. I was sure of it. I savored every morsel like a child taking his first bite of a sweet fruit. I tasted every letter, held in suspense every word until the next arrived, and responded like it was all just meant to be.
I caved in that moment. Or fell. Whatever you wish to call it, it happened to me during that conversation. I was happy, and she was basking in that glow as if she had found her home there.
That conversation ended sometime around the moment the sun rose. Neither of us had realized just how long we had been talking, but we both knew that it couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be the last time we’d whittle away the morning darkness together. At some point we’d carved out a path for the Sun, and at some point the warmth had blanketed us with such a knowing that we had no choice but to surrender.
Connection between humans Being is a remarkable thing. Sometimes it is like fine art, taking its time to arrive and make itself known. Others, it is born in an instant, creating neither sinners nor saints in the process of its own divine creation. We are all beings of multiple connections, sometimes connected to memories, sometimes to hope, others to now. Yet when another soul enters our space, we are faced with a dilemma.
There, our question, our choice, will always be which connection we choose to honor – the connection to our past where the scars formed and old fear returns, or the connection to this moment, where two old souls newly mated watch the Sun rise in full surrender and complete realization.
Warriors honor their days by valuing their nights, and honor their nights by not wasting their days. While I will not grab a rose by its thorn in honor of the blood once shed doing so, I will not hesitate to seize this moment in deliberate understanding, and I will not hesitate to bend my knee to breathe in its sweet fragrance.
That is, after all, our own unique circles of life where pain gives way to joy, where a wildfires’ destruction makes way for new forests; the sand washes away to form new beaches, and mountains erode to give us a better view of the rising Sun.
We are such remarkable beings of enormous possibility. In the moment where memory fails to recall this angel’s voice now soothing my tired ears, my heart remembers her and my soul recognizes the enormous potential in the encounter. In that short moment before the mind adds its requirements, its rules, and its games to this fine reenactment of love, we both remember what it was like to roam free in open fields, hand-in-hand, laughing about nothing and everything at the same time. In that flicker of light before the curtains are closed, the innocence returns and love is all there is. There, in that small space of remembrance, we can be who we were before we learned to get in our own way, and we can enjoy the sliver of light cresting above our lover’s horizon.
There, there are no crowds to please, no stories to tell, no judgments to question. We are like babes in the cradle again, and we are as pure as we have ever been.
There, I found I loved her. There, she found she loved me, and there is where it all started. Our story, the only one worth telling.
I have fallen for you
This idea…
This incessant demand of my soul
To follow the twisted paths and fractured roads
That twist my ankles and cause my weary feet to blister
Just to catch a glimpse of you, my Beloved.
I can only do what my heart beckons me to do. I’ve long given up the fight with it. The demands of battles waged between my heart and mind take too great a toll. I’ve long surrendered to the inhuman voice within me, a voice that sometimes has to drag me, kicking and screaming, while at other times has to struggle to keep up with feet bent on taking me somewhere.
Where once I had to think, to demand reason of the unreasonable, to seek the indescribable answers with describable questions, I now surrender. The once befuddled mental spreadsheets and flowcharts that bound me to the Earth have given way to a sense of freedom that allows my sturdy wings to unfurl and catch the winds of life, embraced in unfettered destiny.
I allow those winds to capture me, to take me high above the clouds; to plummet me through the dense underbrush of life thicketed with my own insanity. I allow them to pick up my bloodied corpse to fly toward new fields of destiny, toward unknown stories of welcome and woe, to write a new chapter and verse in this life, to fill the pages still left blank in a heart overflowing with this idea.
I hear you in the winds of change
Howling at me…
Reminding me of my own instability
Preaching a virtue foreign to my mother’s ears
Reminding me of my father’s own insecurity
It sings…and sings…relentlessly battering me with its hopeless tune.
The discourse of surrender can be such a fearful dialog to the unwise mind. Since the moment of our birth we are taught to fight, and to fight hard. Soon, we lose sight of what “fight” means, and we discover a value in the struggle. Then, everything becomes a fight, a struggle, until we have nothing left to identify with outside of it. We become vessels of drama.
Yet I sit in impassioned stillness, longing for the facade to dissolve. I long for the steeled silence to replace the battered illusion; for the peaceful space to replace the dramatic game. I long for it to become easy, like breathing in a spring day. I search for it to become as effortless as sunrise, and equally as meaningful.
Yet, I am only human. I am just a man. This is, of course, more folly from my ancestors, a continued denying of my implicit truth. Even the blue skies lie, and beneath them I forget the limitless bounds that rise above me. I can lay in a lie bestowed upon me by others for only so long until, one day, I need something so much different, and I begin to change.
Change it seems, can be a whip used to beat me or a rope I use to climb. The choice I make, is mine.
Lover, hear me whisper
I’ll hum you a lullaby.
I’ll caress your face with undoubting hands
Hold you firm against the tide
Share the board on which we’ll ride
Until tomorrow, we have today.
Which is the right way to love you? Which is the right road to choose until we sit, illuminated by a raging fire, nestled closely against each other? Which path should the beads of sweat born against our skin take to form the puddle we will share? Who are they to tell us? Tell me, which lion born forgives itself for pretending to be a zebra? Which drop of rain flies upward in some vain attempt to kiss the very face of our raging Sun?
Who am I to deny the very life we were born to share?
I relinquish my control while being embraced firmly to the roots that hold me to this place. I search for the sea and the highest peaks on which to make our holy altar. My body screams your name and my heart…well, my heart…it simply beats praying for that one moment when yours has becomes its echo.
I have simply given in to…
One day this moment will be gone
Nothing but a distant memory, an over-told story.
We’ll be two old crows silently squawking in some corner of a room.
But my, how we will have loved,
How we will have loved and loved and loved,
The truth be told in the glances we share,
In the smiles our eyes betray upon our knowing lips,
In the way our wrinkled hands fit nicely,
In the way my shoulder bends to the touch of your head,
The way my aged arm fits perfectly around your longing waist.
One day today will be but history,
And we reborn into nothing but a vision of two aged fools.
But, my love, what a tale we could tell!
The countless nights in eternal ecstasy,
That ocean of love that bestowed us an infinite number of waves,
Too many to count, but we were too busy anyway.
I’ll long to hear those words you had first spoken so very long ago,
Words that had never aged from the first moment you gave them life.
“I love you…”
With those word gave birth a new universe
Where two aged fools in love could sit
And say nothing while saying all that need be said.
Where the space that we have shared a million nights before
We share but for one last breath
And close our eyes for one last time.
We’d have but one regret,
That we had not one more to share.
Love has little to do with ending. That is the folly of the mind. Yet all stories must end, even if there are sequels to be had. The idea of surrender takes me to a place that we share, a place where love basks in the imperfect and glows lovingly on the humanity that gives it life. When i think of you I think of such things. Perfect imperfection. Beauty. The truth of incredible strength as two souls trudged through the muck and the mud created by stories of old toward the beaches and peaks of their own creation. The stories of how pain and failure gave way to happiness and success; how struggle and limitation surrendered to acceptance and love.
That story never does get old, does it? Somewhere in the deep crevices of who we are our hearts beg to write it as our minds plead to read it. Yet there I am, alone at my writing place blocked by the empty air around me and the buzz of longing in my ears. No light can shed this darkness and no thing can fill this emptiness.
Until…
I have this idea. This idea of you. Suddenly life springs into my fingers and it all comes together. That’s all it takes, a simple, complicated idea of you. A thought. A glance. And then a smile.
What a life it will be.
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