300314A
------------
After a long, tough, winter,
spring is all about anticipation.
Various types of sexual tension
playing out familiar rituals.
A time to become reacquainted
with various restless desires.
The sort of wanderlust
that comes from dormancy.
Crawling out from one's cave,
and blinking at excessive light.
Afraid of being overwhelmed
by any stray instances of beauty.
It brings scattered attention,
that washes like showers of rain,
across so much that is tenderness
exposing so many delicate secrets.
Every need seems more immediate,
as the pace of everything quickens.
A time of excessive hurry,
as to all Nature rushing into things.
-------------------------------------------
300314B
-----------
It is never as simple
as some try to say that it is.
It all involves so many details,
and more details all the time.
When we were young,
we could evade some details,
assuming it was not so important
and even then only in theory.
Every passing year
bringing additional complications,
that tended to get in the way
of any more sudden decisions.
Those increments of hesitation,
tallying up the various doubts
that tend to intervene,
as more and more delays.
No longer ready to plunge in,
immediately around the next corner.
Weighing up the potential cost
of whatever one chances to gain.
How that makes one want
to discover again what it is really like
to fall madly, completely, in love,
forgetting so many other details.
---------------------------------------
300314C
-----------
Sometimes it feels as if returning,
from a journey one was never on.
A sort of full circle, circling round,
and landing no further ahead
than the point of departure.
It becomes a long solitary mission
of searching for something,
knowing that you don't come back
if you happen to find what it is
that you are looking for.
Most of all a longed for escape
from going round and round,
watching for that moment of blessing,
that will make for forgetting
most of what it chanced to be like.
All the various little deaths
that mark all of the inadequate attempts
to extinguish the many shades of desire.
It would have been so very different,
if there was anything for passion.
Mortifications of the flesh
come in many different flavors.
One can try every one of those
watching the clocks melt,
as if something actually got done.
It was all about love
for someone or something,
but that does not matter anymore,
except as a stray shadow
of whatever stands in the light.
It is all about what you found,
compared to what you could not find,
as to what takes you prisoner,
and there is no point blaming yourself,
for everything you ever really wanted.
----------------------------------------------
|
|