March 19, 2010

My whisper of Angel to your heart.

Quietly I listened to your pulsing,
the song of an early bird that sing in this night of rain.
Your stillness in this Winter cold embodies me
as I struggle to keep up with your pace,
Fighting for every breath with you.

My whisper of Angel to your heart,
simplicity of movement that makes the city a breathing soul.
Shadows of a thinking mind: both you and I.

Tuned into each other, your heart and my soul
I fight to be you and still one.
The smell of your calmness,
rain that has just started, cold shivers of a darken sky,
beautiful intertwine of undefined shapes
reality of your complex being and simplicity.

No words are enough to say how you,
my dust from star, green of grass;
should ever be.

Until today. Belief of a better reality
a goodbye that was never said but thought.
Letting go of a see whose blue of waves still crash into my
pacific tree, along the show of one not so distant white lake.

Words refuse still to run my finger as a rush of
something goes through me, electric as tomorrow
NightLife of an attempt at survival.
Because that is when I can smell you,
when I get to look at your pale eyes of that dark blue
and when our oceans of acid green water collide
into an imaginary ocean, there, where the rings and the Maple Trees
Live and the vortex of All Time starts.

Truth may never reach this so forgotten soul
in the vastness of your existence.
What do I have to aspire at anyway in a world where you do not belong?
I'll navigate my way through, lonely traveller;
watcher among the crowd never to be seen or heard or touched.

The non existence of our single identity; you and I.

Maxwell R. Black
March 19, 2010

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