I wake up and I want her. As the day blooms and the beauty of spring is manifest, I want her. The tick of the clock is as the tick of my heart, steady, forever falling and raising the seconds till, the minutes lost, the hours unforgiven in the pain of separation. And this is how I know, from the dry soil of ache, where desire and need mix within the hollowness of my chest, the echo of my heart longing for that moment, of reunion, of kneeling before the alter of all that is beautiful as if without her, nothing makes sense and nothing is significant and the colors fade of hue from everything. She is color in my world; and music, ethereal tones, peaceful as footsteps in the morning, of coffee in hand, of sheets pulled back and pillows propped up and a smile that snuggles beside as her golden head halos my shoulder and what is written is read and what is read feels as spring showers, bringing forth bloom from the light of two souls swimming the eternal stream of each other.
What is a pen without ink. This is how it feels, empty, without her. And what could be written is written as upon water, as vapor, or clouds held in a blue sky. My pen aches for release, to bled the page with crimson dye to make eyes wide and fingers grasp and lips part and words whisper lobes warm, breath gentle as waves, soft as the bosom pressing my arm.
The mornings, days, weeks flow when I am with her. There is no effort, no more than the bud blooming and there is no judgment or opinion of this or that: there just is. So how do I explain or put into words an 'effortless just is.' She is I suppose the glove that fit from the first day, the one I would if I could wear beyond the wearing, would not trade for any treasure or jewel, position or power. She is as sun warming my days, giving forth life as if before her nothing lived. With just a look, she stirs within me what no one has ever stirred before and what I feel is beyond words, metaphor or simile. Still, there is the ache to try, to explain what cannot be explained, to reflect back, somehow the depth of the ocean unseen.
There were days I never spoke of, days before the ocean, before a coming storm, where the winds were savage as my hair horizontal in defiance of fate or destiny or Janus knows what. But into this sea, into the howling wind I would yell it, yell it till my voice was hoarse and then yell it some more until the salt burned my eyes blurry and the wind chapped my face a bitter blush and from a distance what looked like naught or even insanity, I knew what only lovers know. So I yelled it again. How now to tell of these days other than to say, again I would do it. All of it but to hear your voice in my ear, to feel your hand holding mine, all of it, for just those moments, again.
8 comments:
Sigh, And I want to BE her. What more can I say? Magnificent post. Raw emotions painted on canvas. I sit and read this, and the tears start flowing (and I am in a public place). All I can say is it's Beautiful, and Em is one lucky Hynerian.
This has left me speechless (don't even say it). I may be back to add an additional comment later, however, the Cat's got my fingers and I'm not sure he'll ever let them go.
It's a gorgeous day here and I'm going to go sit in the sun and hope beyond hope that one day, I can have this effect on someone.
Oh my, I think if I ever got my arms around you I'd never let go. TIGHT HUGS/MWAH/Love Always/SIGH
XOXOXO hhhhHHHHH
LotL, you are very kind. I can only write from the inside out, and whether the writing is good or not, it's me, to the best of my ability to express in language. I'm not finished with Trev and his journal. Inspiration, like Spring, is in bloom and I have a feeling Trev is gonna do quite a bit of journaling, while Em sleeps. :-)
Safe journeys. All the best to your daughter tonight. Let me know how she does. :-)
As I continue to read and reread this, still in awe, sigh...You've told me on several occasions that if there were any post that I would like to have you do a reading on, to just ask...Well???
I'm down on my knees, PLEASE!!!But, be prepared if you do, you may have to come scape me up off the floor.
TIGHT HUGS/MWAH
hhHHH
Funny you should mention that. I've read this one aloud a few times with the idea of doing audio. Perhaps tomorrow. :-)
:-)
Thanks
Words cannot express how this post moves me. I have awoken 3 times tonight thinking of this and have turned on my SLOW computer so I can reread it. Please hurry and do the audio so I can listen to you read. Your reading always add insight and power to your post and I can't imagine this one being any more powerful. Once again, I am going to try and drift back off to sleep with the visions of Em and Trev in my head.
TIGHT HUGS/MWAH
XOXOXOXO
hhhhHHHH (and I wish I could make it bigger as my heart grows)
Goodnight my dear sweet man!
I have C this weekend and he is in "the studio," so it might not be till Monday that I have the space and peace needed to record. I suppose you'll just have to wait. ;-)
want
Was there ever more evocative a word. Just the word, alone, solitary, wherever it may stand, can make my stomach muscles contract, my mind drift, associations diverse and all-embracing. An expression of want is so decadent almost, very different from need, or desire, the demand, rather than request, the expectation, moreso than wish. Your title therefore, the simplicity, the honesty, the proclaimation is utterly compelling and evocative.
The two first sentences manifest the simplicity, the honesty, and the pursuasions that captured in the title, could be no more firmly secured that by this beginning. I look up and I see the babble within my words, recognizing at the same time, it is only a sign of just how influential, just how lovely, how utterly lovely, how evocative, your words are.
The post before this and now this, to hear such expression, it is almost as if the heart cannot bear such loveliness, a simultaneous appreciation and yearning, an exquisite ache settles in the chest, both for the beauty and because of the beauty, living within for a moment, and wishing one could live within always. So lovely are the words of reunion, of everything missing when she is, hue, significance. She is color in my world..., how to tell you how lovely this is...what I can is describe the teary smile that visited, a happiness, pure and deep, that reminded me of how I felt when I read the chapter that recenty was mentioned, the one where John comes home to Cait and they have just one night together before he has to leave, I remember being consumed then as I am now with gladness, hope, belief and desire also elements within, for a writer such as yourself is this awe-inspiring because they write from the heart, of what they know, and if you can write of love like this, then it does exist. Because I meant to say that better, without remembering at all what I wrote only what I felt, I would ask you to go back to that post and in my comment then I am sure the point I am trying to make now will be lodged.
I am lost in awe as you can easily tell, I am sure. when I am with her. There is no effort, no more than the bud blooming is another, and bear in mind just one of these makes a writer worthy of eternal love and devotion across continents and time, jewel of an expression. My goodness. Not the words, but what they mean. Lost in awe, I should have begun with and stopped there. No how, no way, can I tell you how lovely this is, and how I would wish it for the two of them always, and for everyone else too.
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