Etudes In Longing

I
Fathers and mothers, brave sons and dear daughters turn ear my way. I carry with me the mist of her heirlooms: so fragile, tender and sweet. I cannot see them, I feel them. Nor can I touch them, for I have become them. I cannot display them, I live them out in the Visigoth of life. I guard in my being the memories of her past that I could rescue, rescue from the ever gathering dark.


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II
I often sit gazing at your picture and I still dream. Through the day and into the night I imagine us together. But then, suddenly, the flutter of hope subsides and I am left with the wings of dead butterflies that fall and wither away into a powdery nothingness, like my dreams that come as a wave and recede again into the ocean


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III
This day I long for the guns of yesteryear when we boldly crossed that little Rubicon of hope. You showed me the fate of destiny, it was bound in our love entwined like the roots of aged trees. Harbinger of many firsts, firsts that fell upon my ignorance like grapeshot. You alone silenced my cannons of fear and guarded me in the phalanx of your love. Repose I gained in the convent of your bosom and there I stayed. Til came the belligerent usurper and tore our house asunder and there, in platonic upheaval, I lept once more into the breach. Compelled to live in the light of mere memories now hallowed like soldiers on the ground.


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IV
I didn't count the cost that came with reverie. A life I thought was there ahead for me to see. Enraptured psychology, I walked right through the doors of independence. A different sort of fruit now grows upon this tree; cracked and marred by a cruel destructive victory. Constant soliloquies, I rage against the tears that flow within me.


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V
I thought I saw you in the sway of the tree. Your lovely form it took when it danced in the wind and caused within me a sigh; a sigh like you used to. And there in the sharpest break of green and blue and in the softest hiss of its song I knew you once again; and I was happy.


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VI
Y pienso que hamas voy a ver de amores, bebiste todo el agua que tenia. Y sin tu amor no es justo que se llena de nuevo. El quietud que quedo despues de tu presencia me fastidia y solo hay que cantar tu nombre. Como es que me encanta estar en mi jacal con mis suenos y mi deseo solo por hervir en ti.



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VII
See here my new found joy! She came as the morning sun and perforce drove many darknesses from my eyes. Bits and pieces they fell from my person like tiny scabs set in their way. As often happens on these sharp and bright mornings, when awake, the day presents her gift in a thousand forms of splendor, like the many faces of her.


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VIII
Part I: Elation

Kaleidoscopes may have once embraced the melody of her faces
And may someday capture the spring in her dance
Tonight, gaze brazenly into the sky for mere hints and glimpses of the wonders in her expression
Impetuous delights abound in the art of her playfulness
Entangled with each moment, like conspicuous pearls, are new and better reasons to smile

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Part II: Longing

Renlinquish as best you can the gift of her presence
Assuage the sting of that cold darkened sound
Compelled to live in the light of mere memory
Hallowed like soldiers on the ground
Echoes of her linger: that porch, that couch, that tree
Leading to long winding roads of reverie
Longing to embrace once more the melody of her faces
Ebbing inevitably with the passage of time

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Part III: Jubilation

Songbirds kiss the dawn, greetings in a thousand forms of splendor: the many faces of her
Mana falls with new expression-the shape of her smile
Inundated by wealth in her attention
Taken by the warmth of her style
Hail, O Fourtuna, she gave me new eyes and new meaning; evermore besotted in the brightness of her being