You spoke because you felt compelled to speak
I listened because I felt compelled to listen
Something transpired in that sublime exchange
Between a spent thought and purchased silence
Silence now began to think
And an effusive thought now succumbed to silence
You and I had a conversation.
Feeling now keeps its distance from me
I can see it
And am aware of its presence
But feeling and I don’t touch anymore
Our love affair-
Torrid, passionate, obsessive and humiliating
Has ended
We’ve drifted apart as lovers
And found our bliss as friends
Co-existing and comfortable
In the separateness of our identities.
I never know what to make of your words
So I ignore them.
And see instead
The source of this gibberish
And therein I see
Sometimes fear
Sometimes guilt
Sometimes need
Sometimes concern…
…always vulnerability.
And so…
Even though your words say
That you don’t care
And that
You couldn’t be bothered
I agonise no more over their meaning
But see now
With only the simplicity of my own heart
Your own wounded innocence.
It takes a moment
for ‘Forever’ to end.
The hours, the days
The months, the years
Can be swallowed in a moment.
The stories we are stringing together
The stories we are living
Can come undone
And scatter like pearls
that lose the thread they cling to
All in a moment.
The Moment is the Ministry of Justice
The Moment is the Sentinel of Truth
The Moment is the Breath of God.
It’s not easy to stand
So close to The Moment
Its power is immense
And so is its mercy.
It can take away your All
Leaving you with nothing more
Than yourself.
Cutting you down to its size
Reminding you
That yourself is all that you’ve got
And The Moment is all that you need.
Empty pages
Seek recourse from an empty mind
and an empty heart
Stop! Don’t feel!
Lest you weep
If you weep
You’ll unleash a storm
And then
What about the repercussions?
The aftermath?
Quiet
Hush.
Let all storms die within.
Breathe- breathe- breathe
I see the shadow of my hand as I write
Is that of some significance?
Does this simple interplay of light, form and feeling embody a deeper meaning?
Why did this thought come to me?
Ah! Is it because there are now two of us?
The outside is now looking in?
I wonder
Are you writing about me?
Or am I writing about you?
Speak, dammit!
Is that how you look?
Dark
Sans detail
Sans voice
Just a shadow
You’re nothing but a mere cast of me?
But then, are you my essence?
Just empty watchfulness
An empty page
Defined by nothing more than a silhouette.
Breathe-breathe-breathe…
You are the object…
The Reason, the Diety
– that which engages life within me
In You I search
And I find
-my despair, my purpose, my redemption
You stand there
Feet-tied, tongue- tied, heart-in-knots
Unable to help me
But…
It is through You
I make the journey
Back to myself
From beginning
To end
To beginning again.
I
May my calling be concealed from me
From my thoughts and my tongue
For they can hold no secret;
And publish at the slightest prompt
Tall claims during small talk.
II
My heart is a keeper of secrets
Occasionally it confides in me
And now that it has
I find myself immersing in a sea of silence
My lips sealed by a quiet smile.
There’s a price to be paid
For both
Your ignorance and
Your knowledge.
The difference is
In knowledge I step into Reality
Whereas in Ignorance
I suffered my imagination.
Even though I now know
the difference
I still don’t fit my imagined concept
Of a good human being.
But now I stand aware
Of what goodness is.
And in this awareness
It becomes a joy
To bear the cross
You, who have deemed me an anomaly
Have selected for my redemption.
The little girl’s dress
Was a little too big for her
And it looked tired and worn
Handed down
It was clear
That’s the thing about charity
It’s usually disproportionate
Ill-fitted and ugly
Given away as good riddance
But dressed up as kindness
Little do we realize
In our guilt of owning
That charity is what the charitable may receive
But it’s never theirs to give.
How unsophisticated
is the simplicity of my life.
Every purchase made
Every plan plotted
Every grand gesture
I recall
Had seemed so right
As if I had at last discovered
The secret of (my) sophistication.
And yet today
It all seems so foolishly naive.
Something within me is embarrassed…
…does that mean I now understand ‘sophistication’?
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 