Author: tomgrasso (Page 36 of 38)

For this time – I thank you
I shudder to think of what this life would be like
Without you in it – holding it together.

I open my soul in my words
and present them as a gift to you
A lesson not in what could be-
But what is.

In these words you will see
Truth – the better part of me,
As if this soul has taken form
It becomes the which you know.

What we cannot regain,

We must only strive to forget,

For you cannot turn back the hands of time,

Nor can move that which is set.

And when you dangle on death’s open ledge,

Do you turn away the hand that you bid no friend?

Do you hold against that hand a past misery?

And watch it fade as you fall to end?

It could be simply put,

That the hand that whipped with no normalcy,

The hand that held to keep me down,

Is the hand that also set me free.

Last night I had a dream.

We were singing and laughing and playing and talking,
Just like we used to.
We were special, we were together, just like we were so long ago.

A special feeling came over me, just like it used to when we were together.
I realized that although I wasn’t always aware of this feeling,
It was always there in our moments together.

I awoke, and I realized that you were gone.
You had left us and moved on, and a wave of sadness fell over me.
I cried, as I had rarely cried before, for I had lost a piece of me.
And then I realized something…

That special feeling was still there, like a warm light it calmed me.
I smiled through my tears, and reached out for you in my heart.
I felt you, I touched you, and the songs and the joy and the memories returned, just liked they used to be.
I also realized that you may have left us as we are,
But you never really left us at all. You are right were you are supposed to be.
And while I have lost you in this world, I have found you in my heart,
and there is no better place for either of us to be.

In time we may meet again, and we will laugh and sing just as we are this very moment.
We will talk and I will thank you for this gift.
The gift of seeing each moment I share with those I love just a bit clearer,
Of cherishing those moments just a bit more.
Of listening to the songs of my children just a bit more intently,
Of holding the love I have inside of me just a little less tightly, and in enjoying
those moments of silence where my heart can feel it all over again.

You keep what you think is your right-
The bull whip for which you can crease my soul-
and i tell you, that you are doomed to fail,
for divided though i may be, i have never been broken.

You may taunt me with your idiocy,
Spurn me with my own desire, haunt me with my own past,
and i tell you that you have no strength over me
for that which you try to beat me with has lost it’s sting.

It has lost it’s sting, it has lost it’s power,
it no longer casts a shadow over me, it no longer chills me to the bone,
for i have the past scars from those who have tried – and failed,
and you offer nothing that i do not give you as weaponry i have not seen before.

Take heart, i am here of choice, not of necessity,
i do not wish to part, although i do strongly wish to live,
i do strongly wish to see the morrow, to feel it touch me on the brow,
but i do not wish to be a slave to the torment in which you try to imprison me.

So take it, or leave it, but do so all the same,
for time is too fleeting to waste it on nothingness.
Either crush the moment with sureness, or crush it with insecurity,
but crush it all the same, as this moment is all we will ever be sure to have.

Take this hand, take it forever, or take it not,
and take it not forever, but do so all the same,
for the hesitation is prison unto itself, an unnecessary waste of this moment,
A waste that can never be refunded, or returned.

If you are quiet, you can hear,
Astounding things in the empty meadow.
From ancient sounds and lullabies to distant
screams from anguished past,
The question still remains, How do I separate me from myself?

From out those innards of everyone
Come past thoughts that key ego’s destiny
That image of myself, that longing for more, that
Timely instance of agony
Begs to question, How do I separate me from myself?

That extended hand is not mine, but that which extends it is;
those fingers are not mine, but that which holds yours in them is.
And alas I stand but all alone, and ask my Lord a simple theme,
“Dear God within me guide this thing,
And tell, please tell, How do I separate me from myself?”

Please, my dear, take this one moment in time,
to see inside my heart, for the unending love that courses through my soul,
in that you will see the light of this world,
the light of love, the light of truth, and the light of all that can be.

Forgo the darkness of what was, and bask in the light of what is
this one moment of time
Seek what is you wish to find, hold on to the vine that will support you for eternity,
The vine that does not entangle your heart, but embraces it as sun embraces the earth.

Take in this one moment of time
This hand of mine outstretched not in hasty offering of thought
But rather as a grasp of the glory that this one moment allows,
The glory of love, the glory of eternity, the glory of promise our two souls provide.

For, in this one moment of time,
We can enjoy eternity.

The wind has not been colder since we grew apart,
The avid clangs of memories do
spawn timeless shapes of what could be,
yet keep us from all that is beyond what we hold in our empty hands.

We walk in a mud shaped avalanche of all that we expect,
We stand inside that happenstance,
Too afraid to move, too afraid to let go!
…that sorry weakened vine that serves to tie us to such memory.

That empty hand did hold that weakened vine;
Did hold that span of distant crime,
I long to see it go, see it fade into timeless nothingness,
But what, as I stare at empty hands, doth keep me to this vine?
It is not my grip, it is not my strength, this vine is wrapped around my heart.

It has been an eternity since we grew apart,
A not forgotten distant stare, memories singed into empty air,
We tug, we push, we pull again, cyclic anger without an end,
Someday perhaps we’ll pull anew, pull together as lovers do
Perhaps, perhaps…the sun set down-another day gone through.

The wind that howls each passing day,
the wind that drives each a different way,
This thickened rope hath intertwined,
This vine, this vine, chocked forever out of lovingness
Since we grew apart.