Daydreams
In my dreams I see a girl. She sparkles like the ocean, laughs like the waves. Whenever I close my eyes and meet her, she’s poised beneath a weeping tree. As the tree sways her hair is carried by the breeze. Her smile is soft, and sunlight steals through the trees to dance on her skin.
And suddenly, in this dream, she turns to me. Her lips curl gently, her eyes grow a little wider as she looks at me. My heart stops. And she tilts her head ever so slightly, her face filled with a sultry curiosity. And like a tidal wave, she comes. She takes my breath away, she drowns me beneath her waves. And under the ocean’s surface, it’s quiet. Quiet except for my singing heart. It’s only her and I, her hand in mine, our bodies intertwined. I’m locked in her undertow, but the ocean seems like home.
And then we’re back beneath the weeping tree, our hair swaying in the wind. Smiles basking in the sunlight. And it’s just like in the books and the movies, where she looks so beautiful you could just kiss her –
She leans in close, and suddenly her lips are on mine. They’re salty and sweet, and she smells like the sea. I reach out to hold her, but then her lips are gone. Her smile is replaced by a streak of sunlight. Only the weeping tree sways in the breeze.
I open my eyes. I wonder where she’s gone. Though, I know a girl should never dream about another girl’s smile, and especially not her lips.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Home Without Time
If I were to live
in a home without Time
would I live all alone?
Would I meet all the faces I read of?
All the poems I dream of?
Would I find myself here,
in this home without Time?
Old and molded
or young and unfolded,
waiting to unravel?
Perhaps by the hands of a lover
or the demands of a passion.
Would I converse with the songs of stories
or kiss the lips of life?
Would I find the passing of pain
or the start of suffering?
The question is not what I could do without Time.
It is not what I would be or see
or feel or reveal
about the nature of the universe.
Without Time I would not be.
He is the ground I am bound to,
that we all were founded through.
Without Time,
there would be no home for all that existed.
All that was birthed and born
and grew by days
and took a final breath,
maybe muttering a phrase of thanks
or crying a chorus of compunction.
Or, is Time the one without a home to call his own?
He’s everything that has existed
and every moment that is to come
and each breath of mine on a running breeze.
He doesn’t wait
and he doesn’t stop
and he doesn’t freeze for anyone but speed.
He’d rather exist without the matter
but the matter
of the fact is he wouldn’t matter
if it were not for this matter
of life that we respire upon.
Time isn’t patient.
He nudges you forward
or tugs you along with a pull of your sleeve
until you can run no more with him.
With his infinite breaths
and infinite seas, he’s always to ride
the current a bit faster than you’d please.
The moment we are born
we are born in Time’s arms.
He blesses us with a clock face
and we all wander around brisk paced,
glancing at another’s ticks of Time
told by the wrinkles of his face
or the color in her cheeks.
We curse Time for not treating us equally
when we all run from the same end plastered on our faces
and written in our paces
around and around the brim of him.
We think we can keep up with Time,
while he stretches on in a linear infinity
we are planted as seeds along his spine
growing and spurting
until the soil of his bones soils
and the rayed sons of the sun run out
and we can thrive no more.
It’s not that there is not enough time.
It is that I will never live inside its entirety.
Yet,
I wish to live as that sea
that pours along the span of the future
like a hope on the breeze.
I wish to be a conscious entity without matter.
To run without the pull of gravity
or the limits of physicality.
I wish to be one with Time.
I wish to whisper to him as he makes the Earth form,
watch as he runs past the death of the sun,
witness his strides along the faults of humanity until he
–with the sweep of his hand –
brushes them all from his tracks
and confides in me the affliction
that comes with his sovereignty.
And I do wonder still how it feels to be a sea.
To be tasked with the filling up
of what was once empty
and making it whole.
To hold every life that has lived in your depths
down to the deepest trenches.
To fill and to fall all at the same time.
To never once still.
I wonder how it feels
to be a wave that never stops crashing
and a sea that never stops rippling.
I wonder how it feels
to grow but never get bigger.
Yet,
I wonder most remorsefully,
how he does it all on his own.
It must be lonely,
to fill a nothing all alone.
Maybe we are more like Time
than this time
we have will ever let us know.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mute
One day
My lips were leased
To someone else
And
My tongue was tied
To my teeth.
I would
Ache like heartbreak
Over what I lost –
Or what I had
Rejected and neglected
For so long
It gave up on me.
I would scream
Through locked lips,
Ripping hair from my head
Helplessly,
Tears tearing
Down my cheeks.
I would bleed rivers
For people
Who preferred oceans,
Pour poems
For people
Who pined for prose.
My muffled cries
Are forever
Mute
Among a sea
Of screamers swallowing
The silence.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Love Lies
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”
Says Love, taking my hand.
“Then why does it always hurt
So bad when you leave?”