Love Me Enough to Bring Me Back to Life

Love me enough to bring me back to life...
to find the buttons that will make me work and press them...
to find the keys that turn me on and unlock all of my secrets one by one, 
still keeping them as if they were your own...
to understand me even when I don't understand me...
to keep finding me no matter how carefully I hide...
to stir me to anger with truth and questions because you know I am strong enough and so are you...
to figure out how to make me laugh...
to melt my body with your hands, my heart with your heart...
to fight for me when I don't have the will...
to kiss me until my world stands still...
to sing me songs until my soul remembers...
to wake me up. 
Love me enough to bring me back to life.

Time Stopped the Moment I Met You

If time is even real then it stopped 
the moment I met you
and we were the only two
ever in existence. 
And I could measure days by 
the sound of your voice (the only sound I know)... 
the stars that are born in your eyes (if I could be one)... 
the shadows that fall across your face (the only face I see)... 
the weight of your hands in mine like magnets pulling me in. (there is nowhere else I want to be)...
The two of us stretched out across the night, 
unfolding to become the day again. 
Small at first, but always expanding, 
rising and setting until moon and sun are one 
in this singular world of we. 

Tonight, Looking at Stars (4 weeks ago)...

Tonight I am looking at the sky, wrapped in a blanket covered in stars, hot tea in hand, wondering, imagining, dreaming, thinking. Not that unusual for me, but still... 

That the One who made the stars and placed them into the sky, who set the orbital patterns of the universe, and created physical law would take on the limits of a physical body, and much more give us fallible beings the capacity for bearing the most paramount and perfect force of all--love--is a humbling, breathtaking, perplexing responsibility. 

Every life, every soul stitched together with the infinitesimal and immense so every fiber within is connected to the Divine, and as such to one another, purposed to remind each other of Glory, to spark Hope, to kindle the Love from which we all came. 

Sleeping Still

The time over Labor Day Weekend 2000, a near accident on the interstate made me speak your name.
 
And in that moment just before a certain death, I'm convinced your love kept me safe.

Another semester and I’m still searching, in the wilderness trying to find a compass, a looking glass, a star to pin me somewhere true in this sea of love and space.

Some planes crash, a phone rings—but it’s not you, I watch the unburdened weight of a butterfly’s wings. Some worlds collide, some keep barely missing. Some stars shine, some bells sound while sirens chime, some songs play that make me miss a face I have never even seen. And even if we never meet, I have no doubt should your heart stop, mine will fade too.

Like kamagarinis washed by rain, two storms that pull like magnets, we're holding each other together worlds away, miles apart, right across from, so close...if we only knew.

August comes again, the night of the 16th and I say a prayer for you before the adventure of a dream. A train ride, a treetop jungle, and the battle begins stretching to travel the map of your wandering flame.

And the way this feels, I must be sleeping still…

Like Wildfires

Our hearts were like wildfires burning in unpredictable ways...
 
Not knowing where to turn or to whom.

Searching for each other with the heat of desire a path of destruction could not break.

Stars dying, falling,

shooting across the sky

to be born again anew

to align for me and you.

Winds whisper change as the seasons collide,

like bones laid bare in the sunlight undone by the waning moon.

The planets moving through the motions, axes upturned, emotionless they rotate

Tilting, turning, spinning

Threatening to lose their high,

To fall from heaven, to give up their place

To die.

ton nom dans la pluie

je l'appelle ton nom comme la pluie
commence.

mais tu ne reponde pas

il n'y a que le bruit de la pluie.

pour effacer mes memoires de tu.

Criminals

Your hands are criminals.
Your lips are too.

The resting bird, the ripened fruit,
wild and forbidden, they are not
yours for the taking.

My heart beats, my mouth
speaks...wings and wind, I'll fly away
in the wake of your destruction.

Your hands are criminals. Your lips are too.
But I am no prisoner.
My voice is freedom.