Monday, January 1, 2007

My Ghost...

"If I go away
What would still remain of me?
The ghost within your eyes?
The whisper in your sighs?
You see...Believe
And I'm always there." - Jon Oliva

My Ghost never leaves me...He is always there watching me...
At night when I sleep...in the morning when I awake...
He's been there for years...whispering into my ear...
Holding my hand...keeping me warm in His embrace...
I lie awake at night...and we can talk for hours...
About life, about dreams, about hopes, about what-ifs and what-could-bes...
We play, we touch, we laugh, we fight, we hurt each other...
But there is always that invisible string...
That keeps our hearts, our souls united...
My Ghost knows all that I am, all that I want to be...
He knows my fears, He knows my needs, He knows my innermost desires...
He wipes away my tears when I grieve for our loss...
He is my strength in every moment of weakness...
He knows what every beat of my heart longs for...
I cannot exorcise what I choose not to...
I cannot teach the heart abandon...
I cannot find answers to my questions...
It's complicated...A web of incomprehensible thoughts...
Yes, my Ghost knows the answers...but He says nil...
No, I don't know what He is thinking...but He knows exactly how my mind ticks...
But He says nil...but He says nil...
More dose of prose

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Wildflower

Purple…sensitive, esteemed, vigilant.
Pink…feminine, soft, delicate.
White…pure, true, sincere.
Red…passionate, charmed, brave.
Blue…subtle, deep, soothing.

I am a wildflower amidst a field of green.
My color changes with the wind, the sun, the rain.
My roots are planted in the richest loving soil.
My petals spread out like an embrace.

The wind fills my breath.
The sun nourishes my soul.
The rain quenches my thirst.

I am thirsty. He is my thirst.
I am hungry. He is my hunger.
I am found. He is my keeper.
I am a wildflower. He seeks me.

He seeks to pluck me from the soil into his loving hands.
In his hands…will He protect me?
Or will I yearn for the soil that strengthens me?

I seek beauty, splendor, freedom, joy…I am a wildflower.
Will He place me in an exquisite porcelain vase for the world to glorify?
But sustain me from my wind, my sun, my rain?
Or will He find His place beside me…in the wilderness?

Wild in the fields of green…
Playing, basking, loving under the sun…
Feeling, tasting, savoring the droplets of rain…
Chastising, satiating, calming the wind…
I will be His thirst, His hunger, His keeper.
More dose of prose

Friday, December 22, 2006

The Question about Love

Love is overrated, underestimated, misunderstood, overacted…
Love is a question in itself that’s unexplainable, unfathomable, incredible!
There are three kinds of love…holistic, platonic and toxic.
I love this dress, my car, those shoes, that place…holistic love for material things.
Love for a friend, a parent, a sibling…can be characterized as platonic love.
Toxic love…now that is the question.

It’s difficult to put into words something that can only be felt.
You can use a multitude of meanings, catch phrases, metaphors, synonyms, proverbs…but still end up at a loss for words.
The feeling is a cross between physical, emotional, spiritual and logical…although ‘logical’ plays a minimal role.

Why is it toxic? Because it consumes you, divulges you, seeps into your very being like a venomous poison.
Yet, knowing this we allow ourselves to feel it…with all our senses…
We taste it, hear it, smell it, touch it, see it…but with the sight of the blind.
We keep ourselves open to the risk because the feeling is so unreal…

It’s seductive, it’s inductive, it’s productive…and antagonistic.
It gives you reason when there is no reason,
It gives you hope when there is no hope.
Then it gives you sorrow, suffering, pain, disillusionment,
But this love is so great that no amount of sorrow, no test of suffering, no extent of pain, no gravity of disillusion can exceed the heights of passion, dedication, adoration…

Love is not about working towards not hurting the person you love, it’s about being human and working towards making up for all the hurt.
Love is not about trying not to make your special someone cry, it’s about being there to kiss away the tears.

Love makes the little things seem the most important:
The butterflies in your stomach when he smiles,
The beat that skips in your heart when you see him frown,
The rapid thumping in your chest when he kisses you ‘hello,’
The smile that forms on your lips when you hear your favorite song,
The tingles up and down your spine when he braces the small of your back,
The goosebumps surfacing your skin when he touches your hand,
The dizziness you experience when you miss him,
The ‘first time’ effect whenever you see him again…

All these come first to fancy dinners, trips out of town, movie tickets, expensive gifts…
Love is never about convenience, obligation, reputation, society…
Love is: ‘You and Me against the World.’
Toxic love…how do you find it? You don’t, you just feel it!
You’ll know…butterflies, tingles, goosebumps…venomous poison…you’ll know.
More dose of prose

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Infinite shores...Cascading waves...

Cascading waves amidst vast ocean waters...permitting distance across expanses of land...continents stretched out before infinite shores...like memories that live endlessly...ressurected in silent reverie...the melodramas of life...I reach out my hand to touch the intangible air...thoughts are tossed into the wind...distance holds no bounds...only time will tell...when not just thoughts...when my hand shall touch yours once more...
More dose of prose

You

She sits alone on her bed
It’s a cold rainy night
Before her is a journal
That tells a story of a love so right.
There are letters from him
That have been read times over
And photographs; images of their closeness
That seemed like centuries past.
Her mind is filled with memories
Of the love that they behold.
But between them is a distance
A distance that keeps them apart
The only power keeping them together
Is the bond between their hearts.
She closes her eyes
And a scene crosses her mind
Like a favorite movie
She’s watched many a time.
He takes her hand in his
And plants a gentle kiss
He holds her in a tender embrace
And they come together in immortal bliss.
He looks into her eyes
Says he could want nothing more than this
He caresses her hair
Says he’ll love her forever
She believes the truth he speaks.
Then she opens her eyes
And feels a dampness on her cheek
She looks into the mirror
And sees the vision of me...
More dose of prose