Without meaning to,
he’s disarmed me,
with kisses that soothe
and alarm me.
In arms that terrify
and calm me.
— Lang Leav —
there isn’t a word for everything…
A person just gets sexier and sexier
when you’re attracted to their soul.
– Karen Salmansohm –
when i give i give myself…
Give me odorous at sunrise
a garden of beautiful flowers
where I can walk undisturbed.
— Walt Whitman —
zero circle…
Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
To gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty
If we say we can, we’re lying.
If we say No, we don’t see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.
So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Besides ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.
— Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi —
things that stop you dreaming…
flying home…
… the doorway each will soon enter:
where I will meet her again
and know her again,
dark radiance with, and then mostly without, the stars.
Very likely she has always understood
what I have slowly learned
and which only now, after being away, almost as far away
as one can get on this globe, almost
as far as thoughts can carry—yet still in her presence,
still surrounded not so much by reminders of her
as by things she had already reminded me of,
shadows of her
cast forward and waiting—can I try to express:
that love is hard,
that while many good things are easy, true love is not,
because love is first of all a power,
its own power,
which continually must make its way forward, from night
into day, from transcending union always forward into difficult
day.
And as the plane descends, it comes to me,
in the space
where tears stream down across the stars,
tears fallen on the actual earth
where their shining is what we call spirit,
that once the lover
recognizes the other, knows for the first time
what is most to be valued in another,
from then on, love is very much like courage,
perhaps it is courage, and even
perhaps
only courage. Squashed
out of old selves, smearing the darkness
of expectation across experience…
— Galway Kinnell —
while the piano man played…
I return to you. My breath catches to see you there, framed by the doorway, ensconced in wedgewood and velvet. Oh, my: so unspeakably gorgeous, you.
You watch me as I walk towards you. The piano man does his thing. Again, I wonder at this meeting we have found, amazed anew: why in the world are you here… with me? Your expression is unreadable – so serious – so intent on me; I’m gripped with a sudden fear at what I cannot see and in it, the looming dark blinds me; I prepare to lose.
Then, ivory keys shimmy through me. The light returns and I don’t care who notices me dancing for you or how goofalicious it is. Your sweet smile seduces me once more. This. This is the peace I have learned to trust.
These are the things I will remember. These are the thoughts I am not brave enough to speak.
I look into your intense, soulful eyes. The room disappears and time stills; it is just you and me. Yet again, they transport me for seconds that feel like the gentlest of forevers. I am both full and empty. My chest aches with colours I only feel… words I wish I could paint.
Us: I whisper our names with my soul.
Us: looking at one another, trying not to give ourselves away…
Not for the first time, I breathe you in. To be with you like this changes me. Again, I am revealed… awakened to this creature I have never been: one who can fully take care of myself, and yet who enjoys allowing you to take care of me, anyway.
It is nothing short of revolution, this revelation.
I caress your strong hand and hold your finger.
I follow you into the night.
It is not as dark as we were led to believe.
the hummingbirds…
… all I can do is let you know
they’re here somewhere.All I can do is tell you
by putting my own hunger on the page.
— Mary Oliver —
kas reiz bija vienkāršs…
lights for us to see by…
The heart has its reasons, whereof reason knows nothing.
— Pascal —
