April 23: Location

Tranquility; The spot; Faded

 

Tranquility

I harvested this place, tucked it away
in one of the drawers in my mind, where
I could come in moments of anguish and
moments of disconnection – when feelings
seem tainted by lack of direction, I visit
in my mind and collect droplets of peace,
a sweet nectar that soothes the snarls
and evens the chaos into smaller wrinkles,
patches of shade on a sunny hillside; here,
there is simplicity, and unconsciousness
where events narrow and voices cease—
this place has something I want, that
palpable taste of sweet wonder; here
just at the water’s edge with the moon
swimming on ripples, and the soft grass
beaded with a light sprinkle—
this place holds the promise of
timelessness, where nothing matters,
a vision of solitude where dreams
can spin without hampering doubt; here
there is a light in the distance and soft
susurrations of a breeze, and all of it fills me
till I am once more at ease; here
where everything began, or perhaps where
it all ended – either way a completion,
a new beginning not fraught with
frayed ropes of dissatisfactions; here
where I drink what I cannot have, where
the impossible is merely a small impediment,
a place of reverence and tears, secret smiles
and treasures nestled in abstractions
that never see the light of day; here,
there is tranquility in this mélange of
my harvest, here, in this place.

 

April 23, 2014

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The spot

I was waiting on the edge of a journey,
when you came up to me to talk—
there was that awkward pause and I just had
to smile at that spot we never quite got to,
a timeline never started, a sequence incomplete:
we’ve got time, but you haven’t the courage to speak;
after that I was wandering nearer a place that fed me,
with new connections on arrival almost an anomaly,
but all that hunger eventually bled me dry, and
I had to find a spot alone where I could just exist
without the incessant leap to leap to catch the ledge—
I wanted a spot of quiet, where not even you
could come after me with the never said hanging
like a tantalizing honey string of meaning—
I’m supposed to bite, but I never could fathom why,
when my feet will take me away before long again,
and your silence has by far not convinced me;
but you persisted, in a way, so we took a walk in
the park, and with the darkness descending, my steps
grew lighter, eyes sparkling with the delight
of midnight plunders ahead: schemes to unveil,
plots to unmask all the secrets of what you are until
we arrive at that spot, just at the bottom of the hill—
there, the vertigo of exhaustion dulled my vexation,
and I thought for a moment you would step
over the barrier to that place your eyes beg me to go,
but never quite managed to bring yourself to it so far;
now we take the leap, I think, with something as
innocent as a dance in the moonlight—
a suspect move that screams of those masked desires,
but my attention shifts easily from you to a flicker
just at the edge of my vision…
you mock me that I saw a fairy, but just as I saw it,
there was a moment inside your smiles,
untarnished by your intentions, a reflection of light
in your deep eyes that made me shiver—
that was convincing enough, and I knew that
I was suddenly caught, basking in the symmetry of
our merging minds melting into a delightful geometry;
there is a light around us, but thoughts grow difficult,
displaced by just a hair – and in love for the minutes
you spun me around, laughing, we broke free finally:
a lurching step back to the spot where we had been…
…it was a time until we realized that an age had
passed in those few moments – we grew distant,
just as I had predicted, but the difference
is that now we shared a bond of knowing:
that spot was the place we loved, a place where
years were lost to us, years we could have spent as
true companions – now, the place where we
took away from each other something precious
and our dalliance cost us so much – but who
could have thought that a single spot
would take us such a distance, just to be one
for a single, brave moment…

 

April 23, 2014

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Faded

My boots sank into undisturbed memory, and
as my fingers touched stone, I felt history
a bared thread wafting in the elements,
but always silent…
this place stood for a faded textile of
dreams bled onto a canvas of cruel fiction, but
the unspoken mysteries of how the mountains lie,
where the rivers flow and stretch until they
yawn into the sea, all of this conspired to a power
grasped in mortal hands – and now, those hands
are dust sprinkled over a nameless legacy…
this crumbling ruin has enigma woven into its stone,
in the vines that creep inexorably to swallow it whole,
the stark lines where magnificent arches once stood
proudly surveying a land encumbered with life—
now a shattered mirror reflecting an empty sky.

 

April 23, 2014

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