That luscious rose just a few feet away
Yet I passed it by each and many day.
I lie and wait your visit.
I long your tender tears to drop and endlessly break free.
I instruct and demand the universe with pull and play
To draw that salted drop of life to me.
Just to connect with that which I so often did not see.
Lift this weight of soil and stone, that suffocates this man, but wont.
Break me free from wood and dress.
Day or night it’s all a dark blackness here
The stale air keeps coming and never is there any less.
An eerie silence I know fills that graveyard up above.
And when you come they come to comfort you and to make you leave.
Stay please just a second longer. I hear your words.
Drop you that final kiss and I will reach it with my clasping stagnant hands of bone.
Oh to hold you now or to feel the wind.
I long the snail and slug and inevitability to come.
A million years upon each second as time drools its way
I cannot force my head to explode, though I try.
Another crunched up, cold, dark, endless day.
I scream to the world with all that’s left,
Yet the ant screams louder than I .
I thump and batter the sides of the coffin, my prison.
How shall I die? How can I die?
I hear your softness call my name.
Go home you say, we shall meet some day.
I close my eyes and give up the fight
I shall be here for two million years.
It’s all ok. I am here but you are there.
I much rather it be this way.
Go my love and dance with the sun.
Then suddenly within an instance and yet not timed
The sun it broke the ground, unrhymed
Its ray stabbed my heart, but with joy
The universe swung me as a toy.
I cared not where or what it did, to move and feel and sway and swap
It elevated me straight to the very top
I watched you cry and laugh broke out.
I seen the tears and wondered what that’s about.
Why you looking for me down there?
Don’t waste your breath or give a care
For I am here in simple bliss
No permits, or remarked remiss.
A simple thing stopped me rotting
I realised simply,
I know nothing. ∞
For once there was a perfect time, filled with perfect, in perfect rhyme.
The laze of man, of thing and things and all the emptiness that human brings
Met with perfect, at the door, dropped it’s bag and cried no more.
Yet human man he soon forgot, built his castle, learned to rot.
Forgot that perfect, held his hand, tolled the roads, ploughed the land.
Then one day when man was old, a moment touched, a silence hold.
Of a perfect day, not noticed then, cared then less, cared not again.
It’s that call that calls him now.
Frets the beads, upon his brow.
…….perfect came and perfect went
A perfect moment, no man has spent
For perfect is as perfect be, perfect touch, as perfect see.
Yes perfect called, this man missed thee
For perfect shouts, so silently.
Perfect kissed with perfect breath
Then perfect looked,
Read by the author
Credits: poem @ justme; Image: CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved.
Liberation is not the formation of words or rhetoric but the embracing of silence. That perfect silence, so available it is ignored for its dullness of being. Yet grab its breath, hold it hand and fill thy souls, for simple is as simple needs and simple sacrifice, stands and bleeds. Simple sits so wild and free, yet simple cares, yes it cares, so silently.
Not so long ago, I gave these words to a woman who complained about her husband. He would not do this, he would not do that and all in all he was just self-absorbed, egotistical and unable to attend to her needs. The question I asked her to contemplate:
” Do you treat him the way you expect him to treat you ?”