Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I looked inside your eyes today
And way beyond the blue,
A sleeping beauty rested there,
radiant like the dew.
Enchanted by an ageless spell
Your glory lies there still,
Waiting for the kiss of love
To break the curse’s chill.
It takes a strong affection
To wake you from your slumber,
For years I’ve kept it to myself
And left your heart to wonder.
I see you lying cold inside
Waiting to be seen,
Wanting to be rescued by
The knight inside your dreams.
The shining armor that you see
Stands between our hearts,
Trapping me inside this steel
Trembling in the dark.
I want to come and rescue you
To free you with my love,
To give the kiss that sets you free
And whispers, “You’re enough.”
On the surface I look just like
The hero that you need,
But underneath I’m hiding too,
Wanting to be freed.
Freed to say what’s on my heart
Instead of shutting down,
Freed to offer you the kiss
That lets you see your crown.
For far too long I’ve let you hide
Your beauty sleeps inside,
But as your knight I’ve come to fight
To bring you back to life.
I love you, babe.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I cannot tell you how aligned these words are with my current musings. This is why I love writing and writers. I find a collusion of community that speaks for me, a man who can often not speak for himself all that well. For all the words I use and the metaphors I employ, this piece of writing strikes at the roots of my dark and damp thoughts. I'm grateful that someone took the time to fight for expression so that I could pull up fireside to the warmth of their thoughts. Thank you, Dietrich. I'm wondering if anyone else out there resonates with these questions.
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equally, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were
compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?
Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!