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I woke up this morning with a melancholy drive to write. Who knows whence it came and who knows why? I certainly don’t. This experience is as much a part of me as my very breath. Always has been. Too many years I denied it. Too many years I put off the song of my heart for the vagaries of work and its “necessary” completion.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand the necessity of work. I just never allowed that my heart’s calling may just be the work for which I was meant to toil. And what toil that would be! To write and dream and pour into this world that takes itself far too seriously in many, many areas, and far less than it should in others – like the expression and embrace of innocence and beauty.

I began this writing with a connection to who I was-am-will-be, and I then fell into rhyme. Rhyme! Me! I tend to avoid rhyme’s restrictions, but sometimes…

So today’s off-the-heart poem is as much a search, a playful puzzle, a scavenger hunt for meaning and purpose. The hunt isn’t necessarily for that young boy I was-am-will-be, but that’s part of what goes on here. The melancholy inspections do not necessarily yearn for the one who fills the holes so sadly dried and longing for softness, but elements there stand true.

The hide and seek here more accurately calls for me, at least, to step back into a daily realization of the vast, incredible beauty of everything within my experiential being – yes, even the clutter of my desk and the untidy office in which I currently sit.

And why expose this to the world?

Because someone else out there feels me. Someone else understands. Someone else needs to know they do not exist alone in feeling these things. What follows is what I wrote after I woke up and fled to my computer. The words HAD to come out. There are more, so much more, behind them. When I allow myself to set them free, maybe, just maybe, I’ll walk this earth more in tune with MY core and less with the discord the overwhelms us…

Here goes:

I recall experiencing wonder at the day and world that wrapped me up in its dew-filled, early morning love. Shadows fell in perfect grace as sunlight glinted off damp grasses green and inviting. Tennis shoes soaked by curious treks while crisp, clean air filled my head with dreams of passing fancies – none of which I recall, but that is not the point, is it?

Imaginations flirted with my soul and engulfed the depths of a heart so willing and able to soar on a breeze, so free and enthralled as to act out their stories, so in tune, crickets and cicadas played symphonies.

A bicycle increased the awe in exponential increments, the corruptions of more shadows, more grasses, more sunlight, more dreams and fancies filled me. The two-wheeled time machine created breezes where none existed and planted songs in the heart, and played zig-zag games down quiet hills and blood racing conquests whirled off steep-grade thrills.

Girls.

Love.

Segue

Tiptoe soft through their tender ways
Add their blessings to my days.
Yearning and longing and solitude tears,
Desired companionship where no one hears,
Somewhere lost between heart and ears,
Long for the love that completes one’s years.

I’ve known these things from my earliest days.
Work ethics of bees and dragonflies’ ways.
Innocence lost stands as Custer’s fateful hill
Attacked and dismembered yet I cling to it still.

To hold but one ounce of such beauty and lore
Step into the world as that child once more
Love the crackle of ice under feet
Perk up at the mention of snow and sleet

Hold spring flowers in eyes misted melancholy
Buds on the trees replace the greens of holly
Each step and day and breath brings closer the end,
End of all days, of dews, of life and of friends

Rally the internal cry of viva la child
Days of our youth and imagination gone wild
Beauties and the lovely dream of her kiss
Would that I die thinking of this…

_______________________________________________________

There are times when I write that I line up core feelings with imaginations and longings. Those times are called poetry, at least that is the label I place on them. Most of the time these poems come, not from my bidding, but from a deep desire to resonate with the world – to relax and connect with the only beauty I’ve found to stick around and live once you’ve walked away – the magnificent gorgeous indescribable loveliness of life itself, even in the midst of trial and pain.

For what it’s worth, my post this eighth day of August in a year that truly matters no more than another marker on the highway of life.

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