Honesty

Words, ideas, belch out onto a page,
tears cloud my vision,
anger is a red haze in the back of my mind,
joy creeps peacefully through my body,
love is ever-present in my heart.

I've tried to change my patterns,
no more running in circles, dizzily falling down,
no more fear to say what is necessary and right.
And yet it is all a curse and without trying,
my patterns continue to bite me.

Gifts of truth, gifts of energy.
Thanks and gratitude, yet sadness
as I live on the outskirts of social arenas
craving closeness and yet knowing it is forbidden.
Loneliness while alone, yet surrounded and full.

Honesty is a path of loneliness, and yet,
it is truth that attracts me more than any other
in the search for knowledge, love, happiness.
For all the times I have considered walking with another
my patterns return me to the path of myself.

Am I to walk alone forever?
Is this the price of that which I desire?
Arms ache to hold, lips ache to kiss,
heart aches to be filled and to feel that from another.
To be alone, forbidden to be complete?

Games We Play

From across the games table where we sit,
I smile at him familiarly
fondly
intimately.
"Have you always been so stubborn?"
I ask patiently
mirthfully
lightly.
"How can you not see that you are a slave
to your own twisted reason and logic?
You have shackled yourself in a
one-dimensional box --
proverbially buried your head in the sand.
Fearing to open your eyes and see the truth.
To open your eyes and mind and live!"
LET GO!!!
I grow weary of playing this same game
again and again,
as addictive as it is in it's simple complexity
I am tired
bored.
We have both sinned, transgressed, hurt.
We both have scars.
How long do we need to sit at this table,
close enough to touch but not daring to,
flinging cruel barbs at one another
before we
(and by we I mean you)
finally let go and be who we were meant to be?
How long must we atone for our pasts?
We regard one another dispiritedly
warily
resignedly.
He broods and sulks.
I smile sadly and finally turn away,
shoulders slumped.
Knowing that one day this situation
will be at an end, resolved,
but it will always be a scar that hurts to touch.

Reflections...

My heart filled with love,
that dull undefinable,
wonderful ache!
Sadness in letting go,
joy in experiencing,
pride in knowing.
I support,
I love,
I forgive,
I hurt.
It is enough to know
that I have affected
in some small way
a course of events.
That I have poked and prodded
and perhaps aided awakenings.
Arrogance?
No...
Everything that we do
affects someone in some way,
whether we or they admit it or not.
Timing is everything.
Satisfaction is it's own reward,
despite any hurts along the way.
So much love radiates
from my heart, my mind, my soul.
Forever...

Temptation

Power,
lust,
carnal desire...
handed to me on a silver platter
along with a blood red rose
in a crystal vase.
To accept or not?
The cost,
merely my soul...
my truth.
Is it worth it?
To get that which I most wish
at a cost too great to bear.
My heart's desire,
my soul's lament.

Anonymity

The anonymous ones chastise me,
taunt me,
laugh at me.
Feel free cowardly ones,
hiding behind the facelessness
of a million different identities.
Masks hide nothing
from one whose gift is truth.
I see you.
I will let you hide,
but know that I can see.
Lies unmasked.
It is my gift,
it is my truth.

Riddles Running Round My Mind

A friendly breeze has been blowing
for quite some time now.
Softly caressing all in it's path.
I can sense change approaching,
winds picking up speed.
That which resists shall be forced.
The door, the windows,
have been open for some time,
allowing air to flirt with the notion
of cooling and comforting that which lies beyond.
Soon, no more...
soon, that teasing breeze
will cause doors and windows
to be violently slammed shut.
Urgency.
Fear.
Sorrow.
The weary travelers hesitate.
They fear, they are wary,
weary,
unsure.
They have forgotten about their instincts,
they have forgotten how to trust.
Rest for the moment,
head pillowed in hands,
but time is of the essence
and the decision must soon be made.
For once the doors and windows are closed
it has not been foreseen when or if
they will be open again.
Time spins out of control,
in control.
Wild thing.
Gods laugh from the heavens,
enjoying their little games.
And our arrogance.

Odd

Strange...

the sense of worlds colliding,
the feeling that doors and windows are shifting,
closing.

a feeling of urgency, that one must hurry,
but slow down
like molasses oozing from a container
stored in the fridge.

knowing something from times past
that you have no business knowing,
nor any true inclination to want to know;
things just out of reach in your brain,
but try too hard and they flit away
like butterflies in the breeze.

reaching for the present,
living in the past or the future,
trying to stay grounded
while floating away with every breeze.

wanting, waiting, staying...
frustration bubbling up under pressure
and threatening to explode
in a starburst of emotion unlike any before.
Indescribable.

stagnant.
sitting forever, hands tied.
freedom unbounded
yet bound.