sitting
in the darkness
in the middle of the night,
and staring through the window
smiling, thinking thoughts of you.
i throw another log upon the fire
and light a candle on the table
where i write, cross-legged
listening to madrigals.
each gentle note of the guitar wafts
quietly around the room and
speaks to me its haunting melody
its voice, both calm and wild
is like a creature crying in the dark
its song of love and loneliness.
outside, a single coach-lamp
shines its light on red-bricked walls
creating colours that did not exist
before invention of electric lamps
transformed the deep and silent night;
these colours stir a pure emotion
cold and stark and still and proud
inviting
in the way that only wintry nights
can welcome you.
i sit in wonder, of this life,
of nature's awesome beauty, and of you,
who are a part of me, forever, now,
with me, each place i go
i feel you, leaning back against me,
smell you, earth and sweat and jasmine,
taste you, berries, yogurt and the taste of me, and
hear your voice, so breathless, laughing,
see those little curves, those hidden places,
eyes in candles' soft reflection gleaming in the dark,
with me, here, now and always, you
who i can love so easily, so naturally, and so completely,
always and all ways.
no more 'hard work' love
all ridden with those anxious thoughts and struggle,
expectations and distractions and demands,
and doubts, and silly jealousies, and
insecurities and fury and the endless unwept tears --
now my love for you flows hot and raw like lava
effortless and unrestrained, with
laughter, ecstasy and all-consuming joy
just to be,
here,
now,
in this still and endless moment, outside time, with you
connected and a part of all the life on Earth:
a conversation, in hushed voices, in the dark,
alert, and listening
filled with love of every man and woman, beast and beauty,
wild and gentle, tame and savage,
in this place, our Home,
in unrestrained communion.
now the wind comes up
the firelight flares, the candles flicker--
in the silence all alone
i hear your voice, the whisper in the winter's cry
the song of one awoken chickadee
its trill the story man has long forgotten how to hear
of how to live, and love;
she tells the world
of joy that needs no 'saviour'.
just hold me now, and know, that in my arms
in love and conversation we will find
the answer to life's mysteries is simple:
walk away, let yourself soar, be
self-sufficient, owning nothing, needing nothing, loving all --
just one to one with trusted friends in Gaia's warm embrace,
a circle in a circle of belonging,
nothing more.
|
MADE IN CANADA
trust your
instincts 
