A Goodnight Wish

I want to say goodnight to you in the way my heart prescribes. The way I always should. The way I always will.

Look at me, my love. Hold my hand. Kiss me in the way you want, demand from me all that you may need. Do not hesitate to issue such commands, and never forget the moments I could only pray for this kiss, and all those times I stared at my empty hand, wishing yours was there.

Let me love you back, in the way my heart demands of me. Let me hold you tightly in the flickering flame of our candle, following the music of our souls while reminding you that once you needed me and did not know it, and once you called for me and did not know my name.

Put your head on my shoulder, the shoulder that would carry you through hell if need be. Fall into my arms, the arms that were made strong to hold you steady when your knees buckle in the night. Taste my lips, the once uncertain lips which have now met their destiny.

Hear my words, words seldom issued in this man’s life, oaths uttered to you as a vehicle of truth, and nothing more. Hear my silence, the subtle gaps left between the gasps of our ecstasy. Lend your ear to my chest, place your hand over my heart, to feel the strength of all I am, and all I am willing to give to you.

Each night I close my eyes knowing their opening is not guaranteed. Each night my final words will be those promises once made to you in my solitary darkness, and they will be whispered in your ear before we sleep. Should these be my final words, I will have lived my life to the summit, and will have departed knowing I have fulfilled my greatest dream.

Now, I will find my night’s cocoon, climb into it…and say you name one last time today. It will be my goodnight wish that I have a chance to say it again tomorrow.

Goodnight, sweet love…

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When There Is Nothing I Can Do

We all know the feeling. We see her, our knees crumble. We hear her voice, our hearts begin to race. She fills our minds with her thoughts, her fears, and her dreams. She occupies our thoughts, inspires our intentions, and raises our frequency to levels we rarely see.

We all know her. She is beautiful, and her eyes make us swoon even as we try to keep our composure. Her mouth makes just the right curves when she smiles, and her image sends us flying into the outer edges of our Universe. She sets the bar, and we will always seek to meet it.

I know her well. I’ve talked to her countless times about many things, some meaningful and some benign. She’s inspired words I’ve etched words into the fabric of my day, and give life to inspiration that have brought many to tears of joy. My god, there is so much life to knowing her, and so much a truth to the utter sense of all she is.

Yet, there is nothing I can do.

Sure, I could be the bad ass in the room and feign indignation. I could act like I don’t care, that the moments we share have only the slightest meeting. I could tune down my intensity, resist my own desire, and pretend that her wine has a bitter taste, and her words a shallow impression.

That’s silly. There’s nothing I can do.

I could be “the man”, and act like she doesn’t matter the way she does. I could hold back on the strings of truth I send in her direction, the pearls of wisdom I give her as a gift when we converse. I could do so many things…

…and then I realize, there is nothing I can do.

I can’t make her run to my open arms no matter what my version of truth may be. I can’t make her call me in the middle of the night just tell me all her pains. I can’t force her to do a fucking thing, and for that I am grateful.

You see, there is nothing I can do.

That is the way it should be. I should adore her where she is, regardless of the tears that well up within me at our distance. I should honor the spaces where she struggles, despite my want to carry her through the smoke. I should smile as I always have when she finds her loves, be there when she has her pains, and let her know that there will always be someone there when all else fails.

Wait, perhaps there is something I can do after all.

Despite my story wishing things were different, that for once a heart was in tune with mine, and that the timing was perfect for a resurrection of my hope, there is always something I can do. I can accept the pangs of hurt, of remembrance, that whittle their way through my flesh and change my point of view. My truth is not a universal one, and there is no one who need ever hold my hand.

In the meadow where I go, in the brook that bubbles by my ears as my eyes shut to see the Universe, I realize a certain truth. I am a lover. A hard-scrabbled, complex, rough around the edges lover. All that I can do has already been done, and now all I can do is, well, nothing. Except that something.


photo by: Lel4nd

Another Letter to Her

I’ve written to you a million times. Some words have made it onto stone, while others have been left in the ether, I hope blowing in the winds heading in your direction. I do not control the currents, yet the bottles I have cast into this Sea are meant for you, for the hopeful union of our time, our space, and our journeys.

Through the moments I have cared for you, my heart has been its purest. Though my secrets live and die with you, my intentions once hidden now exposed, the purity remains. Though my own insecurities echo in the chambers of my mind, my heart remains steadfast in a certainty of its own. My soul knows, and I feel no compulsion to disagree.

I can see the crumbled mountainsides of my past, the debris of time strewn all about the roads I once traveled. I can see the smoldering ruins of bridges I have burned, and of the remnants of the places I once played destroyed by the sacred winds. What I once saw as destruction I now know as rebirth. What I once thought was disastrous I now know feels beautiful. What was once death is now alive, and life itself has taken on a meaning all its own.

I tell you things I used to whisper, and I whisper things I used to keep deep within my soul. I’ve watched you through the peephole and stared at you in the sky. I’m not sure where I am going, yet I know every step along the way has led me here. I’m not sure where you are heading, but if I but have a moment’s breath to smell your fragrance, I will have lived my life for real. I will sit in that space with you, inhale your scent, and live with the memory forever.

There is a depth between us, and a depth that surrounds us. I can feel its eternal bottom, and I know the truth of this reality. What seems crazy to the mind rings true to the heart, and the chills felt  and the sighs heaved speak a language of their own. I’ve heard them, I trust them, and though my mind sounds bells of insanity, my heart beats remarkable oaths to the promise of this moment.

What am I to do but share with you this truth? Who am I to turn to when the pulsing of my heart calls your name? To which voice am I to obey, the one within my mind or the one within my heart? I want to carry you through the smoke, drive a hundred miles to change your tire, hold the space and time you need while never letting you forget the depths to which I’ve risen just to see you smile.

One day, as my hopes and dreams are played where I sit, words will be used but be unnecessary. You will feel my fingertips raise bumps upon your back, and you will know. You will feel the power of your hand in mine, and you will find the truth. You will falter and I will carry you. You will call for me and I will come. All that you have sought, that’s been seeking you, will be found in me, and I will be found within your arms.

Hopes. Dreams. The sanctuary of fools, the monument of the insane. Let me be a fool. I have nothing worth being sane for. I would rather wake to you, get your coffee, hold your face in my hands, and kiss you with the rising Sun. Sanity seems a darkness in which I’ve lived too long. I wish to walk in the light of craziness!

Yet, the reality. I sit and breath in the realm of the conscious. Yes, I will wait as I have. Yes, I will be here when your cracks are whole. You are not alone as you face those beasts, and if my blood is spilled upon the soil where we stand, a beautiful garden will be born. If the wind is taken from my sails, I will build my home upon the sea.

Goodnight, my dear. I will write to you again. I promise.




photo by:

No quit

Diving in the stillness,
Sitting, breathing, feeling,
A distant song, a revelry 
Renewed the purpose of eternity.

Beaten, robbed, by those he loved,
Passion gone, returned as anger born,
The minion forgotten in tribute to the Master,
A sullen boy lost, forsaken still.

No unleavened bread,
No manna from the sky revealed,
A desert devoid of hope,
Burning sand springs eternal from their lash.

There is no quit...
There is no surrender...
The white flag to this forgotten boy,
Means certain death, left forgotten on a road.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained,
Or so a manboy's told...
"Fuck you all," is his reply,
Words can sting more than a sharpened knife.

The Sun rises as it always does,
Darkness reigns in a young man's eyes.
The heat of rage denies his heart,
And the wound left in his side.

There can be no quit...
No defeat in the final bell tolled,
He cannot stop, for the will's defeat,
Is the ending breath for the unloved soul.

A boy, now man,
Struggling for his identity,
Tears with the newborn he holds,
Love, discovered in her cry.

A boy, now man,
Torn and tortured in the juxtaposition,
They, those out there, cannot be trusted,
Yet, with her, his determined hand rises above the embers.

There is no quit in this man...
For he feels a renewed destiny.
The Sun has risen with such complexity,
The Moon still beckons and teases his insanity.

A certain ending, beholden to no one,
A mission lurking just beneath his surface,
To love...again or for the very first time,
The Wind, it knows what it is doing.

Some things lost, and some things gained,
The process pushing him along,
It throws him into the darkness of his mind,
He is forced to face the demons that roared within his soul.

He is just no quit in this man....
The longing in his soul awakens him,
The sadness in his heart inspires him,
The entirety of his purpose test at the end of a rope.

He's alive, awakened to the journey at hand,
Each step a realization of survival, 
Of purpose, of arriving at love's great doorstep.
Of knocking on her door.

He knows, not from some crazy notion of insecurity,
But from his place of sculpted certainty,
He's arrive, yet the journey not completed,
He knocks, but will she let him in?

There is no quit in his heart,
She will be loved, for each scar on him a lesson told,
Each footfall a song unto its own,
Each note a tribute to who she is.

Alas, the door opens, and there she stands.
He has finally found his home.
The journey still not completed,
Yet, finally, he finally feels its purpose.


photo by: Lel4nd

The Truths That Remain Unsaid

Sometimes rain falls from a cloudless sky. Sometimes you can hear the rustle of leaves on a barren plain. Sometimes, you can find water in a stone.

I’ve sat alone on many nights, thinking about you. I’ve imagined your fears spilling out upon my skin, your dreams echoing in our chamber. Unexplained waves of something have poured over me in sight of you, uncertain power has wrapped around me as if your arms have been born from the darkness, embracing even the most fragile parts of me.

So many nights I’ve bathed in the truths that have remain unsaid. So many days I’ve smiled in your joy, silently basking in your glow. So many hours have flown by in the dreams of hearing your voice, of feeling your hand, of kissing you in ways that demand you surrender to your heart.  So many minutes have escaped me hoping for that moment when I could love you in the way you have always wanted. So many seconds. So many…

A sigh from my own parted lips. I profess my truth in dribbles and drabs, hoping to comfort your insecurity. I offer you a small piece of the truth, yet there is no doubt within me. In every second since our meeting, in every minute since our words first spread across the Universe, I have known this truth within me. I have felt you there since the dawning of that day.

My heart does not demand your reply, or seek your surrender. My heart has held you dear, beat with your name in a rhythm all its own, without uttering a single word. I have known you in my being, held you in my soul, and I have never asked a thing from you. Now, the wine flows and the heart sings in those little dribbles and drabs, speaking honestly, while leaving some truths to remain unsaid.

Such beauty you are, a wonderful mix of things I’ve asked for and things I’ve only dreamt about. Such beauty you are, a loving mix of iron and the softest stone around. Such beauty you are, how dare I utter a single word lest the dream dissolve and the mist be blown away. The idea of you excites me, the thought of scaring you sends me into chaotic disarray.

For now on know, I do not scare so easily. If you call, I will come. If you speak my name, I will answer in loving repose. If you need, I will reply. If you want, I will give. If you have a question, I will answer you with unbridled truth.

Those truths that remain unsaid are but a poison, slowly killing the things that ought to be. Mysteries will confound us, but we will survive. Waves of doubt with assail us, but stand strongly in the sand we shall. Winds of change will blow our minds into the sea, but dance in the mist we shall. You will never doubt your space with me, for I will never let you down.

I cannot hope but test the future, and sleep sullenly in the past. I will utter your name in prayers of tomorrow without expecting a reply. Just know these things are true, even if you never hear of them. Just feel these things surround you, even in the most open of spaces. They will be with you, even when you think you are alone.

Therein lies the truth that will never be unsaid.

The Sun Does Rise (A Poem)

In the soft breezes of a spring day,
In the sweet melody of love's sweet song,
There you were.

I found you in the Sunrise,
In the orange hues of a brand new day,
That promise renewed.

I saw you in the morning fog,
Dancing in such brilliance,
And extraordinary wonder.

I heard you in the songbird's lust,
Cracking silence with such resilience,
Making stillness such a wonderful emotion.

I felt you in that morning stretch,
Releasing, refreshing in a prayerful yawn,
Come, let us feast on our desire.

My dear Emptiness, my sweet perfume,
That scent that awakens my soul,
The fragrance of my own sacred self.

Come, for now I wither into the day,
Forgotten by most, hindered by my own insanity,
Lost in my own misdirection.

Leave, for now I want her in her chaos,
Found in her own disarray,
I thirst, and she is the drink.

In her, that island oasis in a sea of sand,
My extraordinary finding her ordinary,
Like a magic tale of a man not living on bread alone.

By her, a road full of bumps and bruises and shallow scars,
Turns East, toward an orange sky,
A day renewed, the Sun does rise.


Our Song

What if I said "yes" to your smile?
That simply delicious way you have of asking me a question,
Moving me in pockets,
Testing my resolve.

What if I just wondered into your heart?
Playing the strings of your embodiment,
Softly blowing through the reeds of your desire,
Tickling those parts of you.

What if I trusted your instincts,
As much as I trusted my own?
Climbing steep cliffs and rocky ledges,
Together, holding hands.

What if I softly touched your skin?
Tuning the instruments of your longing,
Strumming the soft notes we've written together,
Singing ecstatically to the Moon.

What if I followed those lines to the center of you?
No distortions in our hastened breath,
Our rhythm keeping Universal time,
Like the Sun and Earth in unison. 

I want to walk with you to places of pure joy,
Find you basking in your own pleasure,
Enter you in moments when you need to be filled.
Call for me.

I want to hear you scream your epithet,
Hear you moan your story, 
Writhe to our song,
Do not lay still, for the moment is passing.

photo by:

Happy Birthday, Dear One

There was a time when you were but a hope, a dream. Some think that marriage is a sacred union, but in truth the most holy of unions is at the moment of conception, that moment when a man truly becomes one with a woman, when the hopes and dreams of two humans unite in one form all to her own.

Like some tiny pebble, you were created. There you were, a bundle of humanity exploding within the womb. Like a dim light soon to be a rising sun, you sat in active stillness waiting for your moment. Like some wonderful promise made to the Universe, you became something from nothing, a universe all your own.

Like some enormous stone splashing into a finite sea, you were born. A tiny spark became a big bang, and the world was given a glimpse into what was to be. A dream was born into a babe, a babe into a woman, a woman into something poorly defined by words.

The words “happy birthday” are, to some, offered in passing to note the day you were born. I wish to offer them intently in honor to the dream, the promise, and the reality of you. You are heart that bleeds into the ether, onto paper, and into my heart. You are a kindred spirit in the creativity of beautiful things, a passionate soul given life in a beautiful form, and a wonderful human being set forth on a beautiful journey.

So, “Happy Birthday”, and thank you for being born. Thank you for living, for your experience, and your future. Thank you for the gifts you give the world, for the little one who graces your own life in a way you share, and for the happiness you bring so many. Thank you for your service to others, and for bathing us in that splash that was your arrival.

With much love, I offer you this piece of me, to that piece of you that knows.


To Whom Do I Owe My Love?

To whom do I owe, my love?

I want to know. I need to know. When I sit silently in my loneliness, playing with my fears, lost in the shadows that move within my mind, I ask. When I lay alone reaching for that empty space where you should be, playing with the wrinkled sheets, the sigh I offer begs an answer.

To whom do I owe my truth?

I love you so. I love the way I feel when I think about you. I love the vision of the way you stand. I love your voice as it echoes in my mind. I love the beauty of your smile, and the way everything about me flutters in the memory of you. Yet I lay here, alone, unsure of which hour the clock has struck, missing the very light that greets my morning eyes.

I stretch my body, stiffened by the demanding night, and let out a moan of continuing renewal. Naked as I lay, enshrouded by comfortable discomfort, I ask for the warmth of your body. A shiver is the only reply.

They say that people our age have found their independence, and made an irreconcilable agreement to give our time to very few, and devote our lives to even fewer of those who would seek more of our attention.

That thought saddens me, as such a demand should be sweet to parched lips. Perhaps, to many, the fruit of love has become sour to the taste, the price of companionship too great a price to pay. Perhaps we’ve found liberation in our moments alone, a certain freedom in the empty spaces that another once filled.

Maybe I am slow to the realization, or maybe I don’t share in the agreement. Maybe time will tell to which I owe these lonely moments, but the darkness demands I ask.

To whom do I owe my time?

“No one,” of course, is my answer, yet in my humanness I wish it different. I want to owe my time to you, discover a commitment made to not only cherish our moments together but make them abundant. I’ve found a path to share that we can walk, a rising sun we can watch together, an altar on which we can make love for hours.

I want to bask in the inconvenience of such an agreement. I want to sigh in pure delight walking when I wish to sit, in leaving when I want to stay, in staying silent when I wish to speak. I want to give something up for you, not in demand of sacrifice, but in the wonderful gift of seeing what was empty full, in what was dark well-lit, in what was cold now heated by our rhythm.   I want to be soaked in love with you, fatigued in our sweet passion, and I want to lie next to a woman I know better than anyone else in the world.

Perhaps this desire is the follow of a simple, yet complicated, man. Maybe this end is not destined for me, perhaps my time alone dreaming of you is as close as I am meant to get. I just know that I am bored beyond belief in the life of a single man. I find no joy in the simple compliments of women, in the lurid sex that our bodies demand. I find no satisfaction in the lack of real connection, absent of the possibility of forever in a touch. I find no real words in the shallow books I now read, and I find no real truth in any oath I hear.

While I find joy everywhere, I find in the emptiness a promise of its own. I hear the sweet song of love in every stitch of sound, and see the light of this truth in every moment I am awake. I have loved, and lost, and been lost in love. I have been fulfilled in hollow dreams, and trusted in empty promises. I’ve uttered words I had no hope of understanding, and sought solace in the ways my mind thought would save me. In the end I crashed and burned, reborn in the hopeful ways that have awakened me.

The awakened me feels everything I trust and trusts everything I feel. There are no middle grounds here, just the truth of intuition and of instinct with a voice all of their own. I know that voice, it doesn’t speak like all the others. I hear that voice, it doesn’t sound like all the others. It exists within me, and the more I dive into that place the more I know how much I feel…EVERYTHING.

It leads me to places where I bend to smell a flower bloomed, and lay in the grass to bathe in the morning dew. I love the flower and the grass, the birds above and the leaves that crinkle under my bare feet. I love the clouds, and the earth, everything between and everything beyond. I know it, because I can feel it, and I’ve learned to listen to what I feel.

Alas, a question rises.

To whom do I owe this love?

I feel it’s you, and watch you from this distance. I’m alone and naked in the rain as I watch you twirling in a mist of your own.  I’ll watch from here, my toes flexing in the mud, my heart beating quickly in the storm. You are beautiful in every way, so I’ll hold this space as necessary for my own survival, as necessary for the process of living to unfold.

For I owe you nothing, and yet I owe you everything. I owe you for waking up the dreamer, for holding steady the power of intention. I see no path to you from here, yet I know our winding ways will intersect somewhere. All I can do is walk, forward, keeping the vision of you in my mind as I focus, intently, on the twisting path ahead.

That vision of you…the one that strengthened me before it had taken form…sustains me now. I know there will be those moments when I reach through empty air, when I open my eyes and find nothing but empty space. I know I will lose myself in the misery of wanting you now. Yet, I also know that I will survive, as I have done each and every time I’ve thought of you, until you are finally, clearly, here.

I will be, too.

photo by: ( (( marS )) )


I try to sleep, but sleep escapes me. There is a restlessness in my nights, and movements in my dreams.

Like a dreamer awakened as the Sun rises, I wish to touch the face of glory. I sit in awe as the light graces my eyes, as the warmth caresses my skin. I’ve wanted to touch you for a long time, and at last you are here, as you were the moment we met.

There is a wicked challenge ahead I feel, but I’ve risen to many before. A man once tortured by himself, wounded by choice and blinded by time, I am now ready. A Warrior once weakened by his uncertainty, I am ready. A gift once hampered by the pattern of his bow, I am ready. I am ready for you, and hope that you are ready for me.

I want to love you. I want to stand by you in the downpour. I want to hold you steady in the wind. I want to carry you when you can’t go on. I want to be all the things you need, and need all those things you want.

To be…your love. What a dream to be that hand you search for in the nightmare, those lips you seek in the moonlit shadows of your restless desire. What a life I’d live just sitting there, your head on my chest, listening to you breathe. What a man I’d be to wait for you in my lust, to call for you in my own moments of need. What a wonderful sight when you come for no other reason than just to be there.

I’ve risen from my blindness so that I may see you. I’ve awakened from the numbness just to feel you. Now, I sit patiently with thoughts of you dancing through my heart, knowing that in all I’ve faced and all I’ve done I am ready, for you.

So, goodnight. Goodnight to the hopes and fears, to the dreams and not-so-subtle doses of reality. Goodnight to the winds and the snows, to the stops and the starts, to the single place where you and I shall stand, forever.


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What you feel is life, what you live is another story.


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