She is always with me
as the clouds are with the sky
as the rain is with the clouds
as the water is with the rain
but we are not the same.
For she followed a star
which shone for her alone.
Thus, I carry her memory.
Though time will burn it up,
now it flames forever.
Like a flicker of the first time
I beheld her face,
her wonderful face.
She is always with me.
No regard for how I feel,
or where I go,
or how old I become,
she is my silent witness.
It is paradoxical
loving this eternal way
while never reaching her.
Given but a sliver of time
and how shamefully I wasted it
on me alone.
Cursed ego, cursed temper-
cursed, cursed, cursed!
Yet, blessed by her simple presence
too light to be kept
by a clod like me.
If only I had known the door would slam.
Standing silently, my hands upon it, willing it to open,
a steel door, a trap door, leading where?
The unknowns are piercing daggers
wrenching my fate from hers.
A violent act of merciless destiny.
Still, when the clouds loom
we are lighter than a feather.
When the rain pelts
we are dancing between dewdrops.
When the water soaks
we are sharing our umbrella.
In my eyes
on my head
like one skin
she is always with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment