Lose Yourself?
Waiting.
Always waiting.
Magic comes unbidden.
The waiting.
The always waiting.
Paralyzation.
Always stuck.
Magic comes unbidden.
The waiting.
The always waiting.
Stammered steps.
Always tiny.
Scraping.
Effort-filled progress,
Only to move in micron measurements.
Action far better than waiting.
Far better than the always waiting.
Hoping.
Sporadic hoping.
Magic comes unbidden.
The hoping stirs.
Hoping always stirs.
Hands.
Hands touch and the deal is sealed and sparks fly and eternities pass and lips meet and worlds collide, and souls mesh and whirlwinds thrill and songs mean things and rightness consumes and everything good floods the emotional threads which define the picturesque tapestry which reveals your life and you know you lose yourself in order to find yourself redefined with a new landscape stitched into your world and the fires which threatened to voraciously consume now glow, embers which charge easily into passion and the world where you lost yourself manifests as the dream you desired so many eons passed,
The eons of waiting.
The always waiting
And now that it’s all over
And the songs may be heard again
And her voice still thrills every emotional fiber
And her kiss still echoes love’s passions
And her hand still fashions itself as melding mastery in yours,
And your hearts beat rhythms of two as one
My waiting,
My always waiting,
Invited me to lose myself in something higher,
Something fulfilling
Something amazing
My waiting brought me through the vagabond disguises
My always waiting introduced me to myself once again.
Getting lost in us is more being found than anything I’ve ever known.
Lose yourself?
No.
More like discovery.
I cannot wait.
I cannot always wait.
I’m anxious for everything we bring to our lives which continue to grow us, nurture us, redefine us in unimaginable ways
Where we find ourselves
Redefine ourselves
And become who we’ve always desired to be…
Poetry in Black and White 