My beautiful shelf

If it was not for your braveness, I would still clench the dark, unwilling to bare myself to the light. I would whisper secrets in the ears of the vast unseen, to winds that set sail and drop my words without care. The words would sink to the bottom of rivers, seas, oceans. They would slide down glaciers and be lost amongst growing spring grass of fields on Himalayan highs. The winds would not think to nurture my fears, words of concern and insecurity. The winds would do what winds must do: fly to cover every valley, every mountain top, every head white or blonde.

If it was not for you, I would keep my heart cold, chilled, to save it from the fear of the inevitable, unstoppable thawing. I would bandage the heart and hide it, muffle its strong beating, hush its desire to be seen. Then I would use words to trick it into believing its time has not come yet. That red was not the colour it looked best in. Cool and slow, blue from the frozen stillness is how its beauty best manifested. Our chats would be murmurs, between my heart and me.

If it was not for your pure spirit, I would still wage wars with the world. I would keep my sword drawn and ready all my muscles to fight evil should it appear. I would seek allies in forests and mountains. I would convince trees and four legged friends to join my venture to purge the world of men and beasts who bow to dishonesty. Then with thunderous force my allies and I would appear at dawn, from the misty beginnings of the morning, from amidst dense forests, deep seas, heavy overcast skies, we would shout, sing, clap, we would preach and dance through each day to find the thread of evil. To attempt to nip, pluck, stem the thought from growing roots in every man, every child, every aged soul that whimpers “I am on fire”.

If it was not for your beautiful heart I would believe that barren lands can never heal, can never grow green again. I would sit on boulders great enough to never be moved and gaze at the dust scattered below my feet. I would converse with the colour grey, try to understand where it was coming from and how long it planned to stay. The footprints would stay for days, I never wanted to quarrel, to ask why they cannot be covered with velvet grass. Only in my mind would the streams and flowers of a thousand colours come back. In dreams that were never dreamt, in eyes that lost all colour, succumbed to a life in black and white. Life wounded, unmoved would stay still, barely able to smile at a shooting star, barely able to wave to a curious child. Then the nothing before my eyes would start to turn into something.

If it was not for your endless hope, I would have disappeared from sight. Little by little I would have taken my steps towards the walls that consumed. Eyes unclear from tears, I would have closed the doors. One after the other. I would have shut my ears and never heard the melody of your voice softly calling “by my side, walk with me”.   

I don’t have many and I don’t have much, but if it wasn’t for you, I would not have anything at all.

Crazy amazing

Here we are looking back, lost in memories and kind encounters. Seemingly unmoved by the unmeasured exuberance these times have left us with. We forgot. Now we remember those precious days. Lifted from the earth so careful. Leaving the shapes of our wild bodies in the ground, wrapped in fallen leaves. You are incredibly warm. Always. The holes held us safe, covered by boulders that dented and leaned a little towards me, then you. How we were is soon forgotten, what we have become takes over the way we started. Standing tall in the middle of a field, heart filled with truth, eyes glimmer from the honesty that we let fall into each others’ hands. Here is mine, it is bare. I catch yours as you gently let go of the string that ties it to your heart. Never did I imagine a three piece suit more fitted to the occasion. The moment you confess is the moment I do too.

These memories will rust, grow outdated and old, leave only traces of their once magnificent selves. Over time we will master how best to recall that moment, that exact moment when we both knew. Knew strong and true that this would be for us, that nobody else could do. Each second will become tarnished, bruised and forgotten. Save for a day when the skies clear and the winds die down, save for that one day when we will be granted unclouded memory of the beginning, we will never fully agree. You will never see how I see and I will never know how you know. We will sail in an endless sea and hunger for a quiet shore.  

I am looking at you, unbelievably strong. The now grips you, pulls you close much closer than you thought possible. Once you resisted, you no longer do. Hope grows in you like a thundering echo that forms after a glorious shout hits both sides of a canyon. The sunlight blinds me, you arrive. Out of nowhere, there was only dust before. My eyes trick me, the greens are violent reds, the blues are rivers of crimson, the greys have disappeared to be replaced by blinding whites. The calls I hear are alluring, never have I wanted to resist less. This is how I see you, true. This is how I want you, honest. Maybe you are a passing traveller, maybe you are a settler. Maybe your song will fill my heart, maybe you will trace your steps to different beats. Maybe I can only see you now, the haze will soon cover you. But I will not move. I may bend, from time to time I may give in to weakness or a more charming melody, but I will never turn. I will never turn.  

This is how I remember. You somewhere far away, me surrounded by trees and birds. Your words travel to find me, my heart leaving in such happiness to search for yours. Then the meeting and great collide. Everything around us fell, exploded, bloomed, ripened in unison. I never want to tell myself anything different than the truth. I never want to look back and not see what we have now. I never want to cage you to remember this as anything else than it is. 

In this moment we are held, carried by a light breeze, drifting in unmeasured grace and unbelievable love. 

A better burden

What hold this has on me, has on you. How silently it has arrived and gripped us to never want to leave. The distance dwarfed in a moment, the colours merged to a bright white or a heavy black. The difference was lost on me mostly. You have freed up parts of yourself for me, to kindly wait, to kindly change what time has done to you, to me. I am still bound, slow to move with your pace. We must run, but hurry where? We must stand still, but wait for the day to end? You have shown unthinkable braveness and gently bent down to pick me up, to gather my ghost-like body from the ground. Then we took off together, began a journey we seldom knew was waiting. You have bent with a straight back, I have allowed myself to be lifted, put upright.

We are two sparrows, battered by the winds and rain. We are helpless birds tossing in a storm, strong enough to stay alive, too weak to remember why. Just as I give up, you arrive to hold me. Just as you close your eyes in sweet defeat, I appear to keep you flying if only for a little while. Then you whisper you are tired, bone tired. I see how you have lost the secrets that bettered your heart, that have showed your spirit how to shine. I see the wounds and know the hurt. I feel the tears that never leave your bright blue eyes. I know the hurt that leaves your body in unseemly instances, when it is still, when it is finally dark. I feel the pain that you hide and share. I hold you to ease the memory of the long and treacherous day. I hold you for the new, for the old to come and sooth not wound. I hold you and wait in endless patience for the heal to come. Suddenly, with much waiting, the way forward is shown.

These are my scars, the bruises of my soul. I have parts you know, some you will never see. There are things that you already feel and I may never discover. The secrets I have kept for so long are slowly in the daylight, uncovered and bare. My frail body and unfinished soul wait for your every word. Wait the touch of your kind words in the daylight, wait for the gentle caresses of your soul at night. Your own saving has to be put on hold until you save me. I arrive as a wet bird at your doorstep, barely able to make a sound. With the biggest heart I have ever seen you take me, dry my unsure eyes, bandage my fragile wings, kiss my broken beak to safety, to health. I am much work, I am much time taken, I am in need of much care. The sunrise helps, reminds me I am alive, shows you the joy in mending for an instant. Mending for someone else. While you tell me of your troubles to calm my worried soul, I feel that I must grow stronger, heal quicker for you. This flight we must take together and soon. Forgive me if I am unsure, take no notice if I am sure too quickly. I am drawn to your sadness and your strength, I may never be able to let go. All this I am forcing you to take on, forcing you to bring the numb back to life. I worry in the day, I worry at night that it may be too much. But I hum and hope that you can lay your head beside my better burden until the heal has come.

Measures of your love

You worry too well. You uncloak the fury with amazing haste. Bare bones and crippled souls stare back at you and the lights are dimmer than you remember. The house is silent, it has been for years. The creaking of the floorboards echo a soothing sound for your soul. The hungry heart escapes the wind-blown cracks on the wall: breeze that chills the air for an instant. The footsteps are soft, almost unheard. The traces of past doings appear on mirrors and mattresses, just the way you hoped they would never do. The curtains must remain drawn, there is something new in the making. The old moulds into the seemingly strange but you plunge and carry the torch to pass on the flame. The eternal flame of your wondrous heart.

These are the seeds that are softly sowing by your side. Hurriedly taken, hollow parts left closed away in rooms and boxes. The precious heart broken to pieces on the floor. The sun set and rose without you ever looking up. The wind blew and the house sheltered you. The grass grew and the leaves of trees turned from green to brown. Then the rain appeared, you heard it fall on the roof, heard its plea to enter through the windows. In your heart’s stillness you recognised the faces that have unwillingly left. The colours changed on the wall, the brightness of your spirit dimmer, the eyes once so curious now tear filled with each memory lost. The pain unthinkable, the motions of letting go breeding sorrow. Always.  

The secret time holds appears seldom. You wait it out and slowly see that from the cliff where you thought yourself standing there is a bridge growing. Familiar faces line the path that you must now take. This you must do for yourself. This you must teach your heart, the badly hurt, bruised and always aching heart. Aching for the missing parts that have been veiled for the hope of a better fate. The little hands will hold you, stronger than you think they can. The little smiles will greet you, fuller than you hope they can. The little hearts will fill the space missing in your big, beautiful heart, truer than you ever wish they could. The sun will forget to set, will stay to shine past the hour that needs to see you peacefully slumber. The fortunes that you hold will become full and unbearable the thought of loss. The moments cannot linger, the physics of time passing must make every instant temporary, but by the time the fire dies down you will have known how much you hurt, how much you count the loss as gain. Your grace and love float on the murky waters of a restless sea. Your bearings are sometimes lost, you steer with truth towards the unwavering shore. Nothing breaks the force and faith with which you hold the beacon of hope. In the wholeness I admire the unending measures of your abundant love.

The anchor and the wave

Open your eyes

I cannot call myself unfortunate. I cannot start to confess to crimes or deceits I have made my own. I cannot part with evil, I cannot bow in destitution. Not entirely. I cannot burden you with my plights; I cannot trespass on your hospitality. I will not share the source of my unending agony, but in all honesty, I might. I will speak of my misfortunes to you, only you. I will whisper to keep the sorrow abound at bay, I will go mute when I see you can bare no more. I will be ashamed at how petty my troubles are compared to yours. I will make out my sad circumstance to be nothing more than a phase, a mere moment of bad if not worse luck. You will be kind. Kind enough to not judge, kind enough to seek my merits and dismiss my fears as hapless children of my imagination. You will try to understand and hold my truthful tears when I can continue no more. You will wait with me, slowly as the day ends, slowly to usher in a new beginning. I will be glad but burdensome all the same. Much obliged but muddled in untangled affairs. Certain of my imminent and inevitable demise.

In my world there are aches, there is sorrow. In me there is sadness and yearning. Longing for a way and desperately hoping to find the path. Knowing fully the extent of my capabilities but stretching and bending to see them grow. Being content with the confines of a habitual practise but aching most every day with the want for more. The physical pain blinding, the yearning unleashing tears. In the darkness and solitude the empty roars to shake the rhyme. Useless. The duelling dwarfed talents keep stirring the otherwise calm waters. I listen and wait. When the moment seems appropriate I reach for a tool to capture the shouts and movements of their courteous dance. Rarely is it a success, rarely can I do justice to the warring inside. The talents bestowed are wasted and fallen before they could arise. For that I am to blame. Why try. It seems unjust to force the talents to pour out through this talentless vessel. It seems unjust, it seems selfish in its worth. That it may very well be, I cannot be relied upon to decide, for that I need you. Sway with me until you feel these words gain worth. Sway to feel their rhythm and plight. Sway to see the truth with open eyes.

I shan’t take much more of your time, I apologise. These phrases have not helped my case. I am to never confess these fears again, but surely I know I will break a promise of this kind. My part could well be left undone, the world would not see great loss. You would save time and I tears. The words and ideas would surface from another pen, another’s efforts. All would not be lost, better still, all would be moulded to a different phrase, beat, to a different mind’s interpretations. I should let go. I should make haste and let go. I am a thief, a dishonest robber of ideas and words for my own benefit. I snatch them away from better talents, make them worthless in the end, release them into the world unready, ill formed, unprepared. Shapeless and haphazard they do damage but only to themselves. I hurry them to arrive unready and then bask in their untimely appearance as if they were gold. As if the light reflected was more than beams dancing on the surface of worthless glass.

Here is my plight: forgive me. Please forgive me for writing and forgive me for making you read. Forgive me for enslaving these words and forgive me for stealing their frail, sparrow-like bodies from others who could be better owners. Forgive me for my inability to cease. Forgive me for my future endeavours. Forgive me for taking much too much of your time. Forgive me for these open eyes. They are a testament to the words being alive. Forgive me kindly, forgive in time.

Every king in every kingdom

There are no reasons to the events that have swept through. Sadly, there are no rational reasons, no acceptable explanations. The irk that throbs impatiently in the palpitated heart cannot be calmed or silenced with words that leave the mouth. Useless desires and blindly aimed spearheads line the way but there is nothing and no-one to offer explanation. The anger turns to sadness over time. Silent, almost unapproaching, surley unbecoming. It crushes the soul and second by second crushes the dreams. We sit wrapped in desolate stillness. The hand that you grip is just a memory, a lifelike imitation of the one that held you back. The water reflects our faces, barely moved by the gale force winds. Words have not left our mouths for minutes if not hours. In this union we wait for time to pass, slowly. At least we are alive.

The road was unkind, the sun unmercifully glowing. We took the summer days with ease, carelessly for granted. Hiding behind the magnificent light was the uncertain, the great darkness. We harnessed the nectars from the fields in bloom, we danced on the clouds that could hold us high. The secrets held themselves open: we could see them visible, we could forget that they were ever secrets. Under our feet the earth became velvet moss, softly holding our steps. Without ever a question, we leaped. The webs of spiders caught our flight, the cliffs moved closer to lessen our fall. Sometimes you laughed louder, sometimes I. The colours pleased our eyes, the wind carried us by our arms outstretched. This was how you and I lived in perfect movement, in unabashed stillness from an old day to the new.  

In my mind nothing has changed. You still sleep under ageless trees, I still wish for wings unseen. But it is a new morning. You leave and return to someone else’s arms, I pretend to busy myself to stay alive. Each night the stars appear, but they are less bright. Each morning the warmness of the sun subsides, a little less happy to find you parted and I gone. In silence we sit, just until I muster the strength, order my muscles to move. They are like a heavy steam train with no steam to begin the charge forward. They are like set concrete fixing one part to the other. My hand slips from yours, barely noticed, barely making a difference. If my eyes would clear of these tears, I would see the rise of this magnificent new dawn.

Here is my spirit free. There is a faint rhythm in my ears, ticking softly in my arms, legs, in my veins and heart. I feared, how weary I became, imagining an incredible abyss were you not by my side. This is my mountain to climb. You no longer need to hold the pieces: I am the master of these winds, I am captain of my soul. I am every king and this, this is my every kingdom. I am here to face this new day rise; I am here to look into the sun and let the new day rise.