Narcissism

All This Time In Search Of A Soul-Mate, And The Journey Has Yield None-Other Than The Reflection Of My Own Self! For There Is No Greater Truth Or Mate, I Have Discovered, Than The Love, I Am, As Within. All Else Was Just A Mere Distraction. I Am Complete!

A Thousand Pieces of Pain

How Strange Today Seem

Looking Out My Window:

You And I Apart,

Shattered,

And Separated Into Timeless Pieces,

Like Forgotten Memories

Reflecting In A Mirror

Of Broken Glass. 

I Am Here,

You Are There;

Somewhere Between Us

Lies A Thousand Pieces

Of Pain.

Heaven Was Far To Fall, 

Earth, Too Low To Remain;

Reminiscing Over The Times

That Love Once Knew,

Memory Has Never Been

A Comforting Friend.

How Beautiful Are The Mountains

From Where I Look,

Yet, How Difficult

Would Be The Climb!

Where Lies The Pleasure Of Joy

We Gods Of Love,

Once Knew?

Were We Not Inseparable?

Now, That The Sea

Even Conspires To Divide Us?

The Journey From Earth To Heaven

Is Now!

But, Must We Live In The World

As Mortals

To Be Condemned with change? 

The World Where Young Becomes Old?

The World,

Where All We Have Cherished,

Can Be So Easily Shattered

And Then Quickly Forgotten?

What Is The Value Of Life

If Lot living For Truth

And Love?

Save Me From This Wretchedness

I plead you. . . .

Save Me From Love,

From Thoughtlessness; 

And Save Me

From The memories. . .

Of A Thousand Pieces Of Pain.

Thoughts On A Rainy Day

I thought of you almost continuously today;

Rainy days do have that effect at times.

Looking out my window, the gray, gray sky;

Are these the tears you’ve never shown?

How dear longings, though, do bring change:              

A sigh of endless thoughts. 

A prism of endless woes.                                                      

Here, this tomb of now bitter longings,

Absent of all that was once loved,  

So tenderly and fair.

Have we grown so insensitive to pain?

Thoughts of you are flowing, like tears of an endless rain.

                                                    

You departed so suddenly, so abruptly that day;

Have I not given you all the truth I am?

Yet, your desire to leave without a simple trace;

Without even a warm good-bye.

 I long to see your smiling face;

The sun shining through my window 

Would make me think of happier times.

What now is left, but to embrace the pain;

Thoughts of you are flowing, like tears of an endless rain.

 

 

 

 

  

 

A Cup Of Tea And I Think Of Spring

Enjoying a cup of morning tea with fresh lemongrass and vanilla.

Oh, how it enlivens the soul!

Each sip, and  I nod approvingly between intermissions of laughter and smiles.

In my tiny room, a brief chill quickly abrupts the air, uninvited, and  I sink deeply into my cup.

Ah! Infiltrates the thought:

”This is a chalice of pleasure, I declare,” raising my cup above in a toast to The Divine, imparting my thanks of communion with Heaven.

What an idyllic moment, although I shiver.

Thoughts linger momentarily,

But I am uninclined, and so they depart.

Still, the highlight of moments awaits. I want to stop time.

The anticipation of the next sip looms impatiently with persuasive delight, as the smell of fresh lemongrass and vanilla perfumes the air.

Om. Mum-mm, my tongue, and belly pulsate with  mantras of warmth and soothing joy.

I look for something inviting to read; to touch, to listen, to invite all of the senses in this welcoming of morning ritual with heaven’s tea, an elixir for the soul, once known only to gods.

Mum-mm, delightful! I sip yet another taste of tea.

How infused with conscious bliss, though absent in thought, I remain;

My cup perhaps half full, or empty, yet I think of Spring!

                                                           

My body slips slowly into oblivion’s past, but I am awake, and conscious of now. 

In the background, music plays an enchanting sound:

Om, I listen, I hear; I want to sing!  

I want to hum what is heard, to dance what is felt.

I want to taste, to know, to be this familiar tune; a tone, unfamiliar to me would easily be forgotten.

Om, it rings a name, a thought, a whisper!

Om, I listen in rapture to an overture played with colorful intentions:

The sound of a trumpeter suddenly mitigates.

 Jazz permeates the atmosphere as in divine presence.

Om is divine, interposing as Marsalis played in key, G, C, and D.

Om, I listen to the sound, while sipping yet another taste of tea.

 Now, I am comforted and enveloped in bliss.

But, it is not “Wynton,”  but “I,” that blows.

My cup is now empty.

Spring will be a little late this year.

I Have Lived for Laughter

I Have Lived For Laughter

And For The Splendor Of Things;

But, Beguiled By love

Of What Its Possibilities Seemed.

Yet, To What It’s Beginning

Did Its End

Now Come About?

From Laughter Of Years

To Sorrow And Tear?

Whenever I Dream

That I am Flying High

With You!

How Something Unseen,

Would Always Clip My Wings

And Send Me Tumbling

Back To Earth. 

Earth,

As If To Remind Me,

That I, Could Rise No Higher

With You

Than Your Love

Would Allow Me To Go,

When Suddenly Came The Thought:

That This Too

Must Also Be A Dream!

Yet, Again,

And Over Again, 

I Awaken To Discovery. . . .

I Am Alone!