the ramble

Singing in the rain storm

tears kiss my cheeks

blending with the drops from heaven

Tears of a perfect sort

of love, and of romance

and of the pain which accompanies such things

The pain that I take

and feel over and over again

Like addictive things–chocolate and caffine

Because through the pain

is a feeling so devine

I can touch the stars with my fingers

and stroke a moonbeam

as my eyes sparkle

with childlike delight and mystery

and I sit down

in the middle of the street

and let the tears caress my cheeks

so painful the end of

a romance so sweet

And so many emotions stream out through my eyes

for moments and a time

curled in a ball

in the downpour of pain and my past

As the cold rain

washes the tears

from my face, and turns warm wet memories

into cold new feelings

Five and a half minutes

to wash away a loves-time of treasure

I will come back to this place

again soon–I know

and shed the unshed tears once again with my heart on the floor

And my mind’s refreshing

and my heart’s renewing

and the feelings fall out and hold me close

before they dissapear

into the starry sky

the clouds part to reveal something glorious

a new start, and a new heart

time comes with changes

and there are better things to come in the morrow

Who, to be wise, to be strong,

To know Truth, as she knows Experience,

Would give up to give in to that

Which is only Mystery, and ever will be.

Watch to listen to learn, only

Then will Expression fulfill its intent.

More often than anyone knows:

She would listen to listen, not to speak.

Freedom, to be found, to be loved

Is made from the balance of Hard and Soft.

To a smile, a sigh, a life

She offers a toast up to challenge them all.

Express to live, to serve, to be

Emptied out for the sake of Truth

That reads and falls between the lines

And answers with a question, every time.

(the greatest among you will be your servant). (I was naked and you clothed me). (I say to you, love your enemies as yourself). (Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord and He will lift you up). (She has been forgiven much, therefore she loves much). (They will know you by your love). (Love one another as I have loved you). (One thing I know, that though I was blind, now I see). (The greatest of these is love). (Do good to those who harm you). (Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things).

She, inviting and enticing, takes the hand you don’t withdraw

To waltz on through the changes as they tower overhead.

Look up to see glass that has captured midday sun,

And it’s easy to forget: you’re ankle-deep.

Lay your hours and your sweat in thousand open palms.

First comes fairness, then frivolity (or the other way round).

Soon you start to know whose handbag cost more,

And, before you realize it, you’re knee-deep.

An inviting rush of cotton, intoxicatingly the new black:

Whatever the new black is today.

Bound first to green and then to leather (reverse that)

Waist-deep requires a more purposeful ignorance.

So she smiles and leads you deeper,

Past skinonskin to skinonskinonskin.

And one here is never enough to quench

the thirst of the neck-deep doomed (that reverse).

Some still stare at the sunlight long enough to be blind.

The rising either welcome or inevitable.

Breath it to become it; surrender is simpler.

“We live in the greatest city on earth.”

(that reverse).

What I’d call a philosophy, you’d call an excuse

For living is to dying what I am to you.

Six months is binding, but only when it suits

Your idea of your happy life of you.

It’s recognition of a need that makes me

Arch backward to scratch your itch

It’s recognition of my need that makes you

(Timing unimportant) tell me what it is.

What you’d call a philosophy, I’d call an excuse

For love is to indifference what I am to you.

Accuse me of carelessness, accuse me of mess.

But the mirror is unbearably full of intent.

That girl at work is such a gossip, you say,

On the phone with that other girl from work.

That girl at work is so weird, you say,

Because she told you something personal.

What I’d call a philosophy, you’d call an excuse

For broken is to breaker what I am to you.

Relationship means more than a set of rules.

But what applies to everyone else, doesn’t to you

(And if you believed that you’d have to change–

Which you couldn’t possibly do).

Right hand on red, left on blue—

Question begs for the answer and you lose a turn.

I, an amateur, take the tricks and play the tricks.

Checkmate before I knew the game.

All the answers start with S—

Your pair of threes never beat a royal flush.

(But does anyone lose in strip poker?)

I’ll take church-culture taboos for 200, please.

We can win if we only move backwards,

But then all the rules change, (they barely exist anyway).

When I feel your breath on my face, is it too late—

To send you back to start, clothes or no clothes?

The X dominates the O again (or was it Y)—

It comes down to who’s the better liar.

(The revelation was only new to you, darling).

You’re the better player, but I’ll take second base.

Risks get you everywhere (the question was one).

And I’ve had a revelation too:

You were only pretending to be benched—

And, maybe we’re on the same team.