Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
The best laid plans [an early morning poem]
The best laid plans...
spoiled by too much good food, loud laughter shared too late, and new books that smell old...
spoiled by a will to sleep in until the time is past double digits...
spoiled by a mess of sheets that cling too tight, keeping you in place.
In bed.
spoiled by the call of characters you are just getting to know... Four hours in and you know them better than they know themselves. Penpals penned on paper for all of eternity.
spoiled by cloudy days and drizzling rain and a warm apartment.
spoiled by the promises of sweet slumber and the hope of good dreams.
Sundays spent, spoiled by ripping up lists you know you have to finish.
Instead, lounging around with books and left over food and no motivation to do anything but enjoy the day by doing absolutely nothing.
Learning and growing through movies and television, the gentle glow of the screen your best friend for the day.
eating whatever is in arm's reach and saving what is left for a midnight snack.
Skipping church only to find God in the newest novel by your bedside. To see him peeking in through the cracked curtains letting in the early morning light. To feel him in the silence.
Breaking plans because they all require effort and there is no room for that today...
The best laid plans...are no match for Sundays...
spoiled by too much good food, loud laughter shared too late, and new books that smell old...
spoiled by a will to sleep in until the time is past double digits...
spoiled by a mess of sheets that cling too tight, keeping you in place.
In bed.
spoiled by the call of characters you are just getting to know... Four hours in and you know them better than they know themselves. Penpals penned on paper for all of eternity.
spoiled by cloudy days and drizzling rain and a warm apartment.
spoiled by the promises of sweet slumber and the hope of good dreams.
Sundays spent, spoiled by ripping up lists you know you have to finish.
Instead, lounging around with books and left over food and no motivation to do anything but enjoy the day by doing absolutely nothing.
Learning and growing through movies and television, the gentle glow of the screen your best friend for the day.
eating whatever is in arm's reach and saving what is left for a midnight snack.
Skipping church only to find God in the newest novel by your bedside. To see him peeking in through the cracked curtains letting in the early morning light. To feel him in the silence.
Breaking plans because they all require effort and there is no room for that today...
The best laid plans...are no match for Sundays...
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Every Day is a Sunday Evening
Tonight, we don't have a lot to go on now,
But that's not how it lives in my head,
No not at all.
Blind times,
Thought we were matching weight,
We pulled.
Sometimes it was you and sometimes it was me,
But where are we?
-----
There are some moments in life that are so frailly beautiful you don't even want to breathe because you are afraid it will pop the moment. The trance will be broken, the magic will disappear, you will forget the night and the memories.
I held my breath for the better part of seven hours, afraid if I blinked it would go away. You would go away. But you didn't. You stayed, your big doe brown orbs fixated on me, cherishing as much as I did. It is rare when two beings both recognize the sanctity of a moment, but there is no surprise there, not to me. You were always so wonderful at picking up on those little fragmented moments and stringing them into something whole that completed me so.
I cried and you didn't move to hold me because you knew if you did, it would become something bigger than what we are. But in your silence you understood all that I was mourning, and all that I was marveling that. There is no surprise there, not to me.
So much of what you have said I have repeated in my head, trying to hold onto it, trying to understand and accept each word. Trying to see the world through your eyes yet retain them in mine. The sentiments are slipping now, slowly, quietly, but I understand and I accept. I do. Once more, with feeling-I understand and I accept. Such is the way of the world, as it has been for millions of others before us. And so it will be.
It will happen again, Sunday evening. There will be a Sunday evening every week of my life for as long or as short as I live, but none like that. None exactly like that...which is tragic, but beautiful. It isn't a bad thing, because there is always the chance of a better Sunday Evening. One where there is no tears and more Alfredo sauce and more love. Just because something is over, doesn't mean it won't happen again, but better.
But for now, I have that. I have had that, and I have had you, and my life is forever beautiful and wonderful and magical because of it. I just wanted you to know that. In darkness, I want to show you the astonishing light of your own being, which is so vibrant and bright and wonderful. Maddening, yet so incredibly wonderful. Without you, every day is a Sunday evening, but with you, it is just as much.
Sometimes in life, we don't get always. But we get better.
-----
You say don't take it all so hard for now.
There's so much space,
And there will always be later for that.
But that's not how it lives in my head,
No not at all.
Blind times,
Thought we were matching weight,
We pulled.
Sometimes it was you and sometimes it was me,
But where are we?
-----
There are some moments in life that are so frailly beautiful you don't even want to breathe because you are afraid it will pop the moment. The trance will be broken, the magic will disappear, you will forget the night and the memories.
I held my breath for the better part of seven hours, afraid if I blinked it would go away. You would go away. But you didn't. You stayed, your big doe brown orbs fixated on me, cherishing as much as I did. It is rare when two beings both recognize the sanctity of a moment, but there is no surprise there, not to me. You were always so wonderful at picking up on those little fragmented moments and stringing them into something whole that completed me so.
I cried and you didn't move to hold me because you knew if you did, it would become something bigger than what we are. But in your silence you understood all that I was mourning, and all that I was marveling that. There is no surprise there, not to me.
So much of what you have said I have repeated in my head, trying to hold onto it, trying to understand and accept each word. Trying to see the world through your eyes yet retain them in mine. The sentiments are slipping now, slowly, quietly, but I understand and I accept. I do. Once more, with feeling-I understand and I accept. Such is the way of the world, as it has been for millions of others before us. And so it will be.
It will happen again, Sunday evening. There will be a Sunday evening every week of my life for as long or as short as I live, but none like that. None exactly like that...which is tragic, but beautiful. It isn't a bad thing, because there is always the chance of a better Sunday Evening. One where there is no tears and more Alfredo sauce and more love. Just because something is over, doesn't mean it won't happen again, but better.
But for now, I have that. I have had that, and I have had you, and my life is forever beautiful and wonderful and magical because of it. I just wanted you to know that. In darkness, I want to show you the astonishing light of your own being, which is so vibrant and bright and wonderful. Maddening, yet so incredibly wonderful. Without you, every day is a Sunday evening, but with you, it is just as much.
Sometimes in life, we don't get always. But we get better.
-----
You say don't take it all so hard for now.
There's so much space,
And there will always be later for that.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
The End.
"You can't just walk away from a relationship that lasted that long and not have a scar. But that's what I'm saying, dude. It doesn't have to be a sad one. There was a lot of good there, too."
My Odd one, as wise and knowing and understanding as ever, ladies and gents. When we are presented with endings, it is normal to be sad, nostalgic, maybe even remorseful...but don't those endings give way to beautiful beginnings?
It is important to embrace all seasons of life, all changes, and every ending, because through those endings we are presented with new opportunities, new faces, and new memories. And so it goes.
My Odd one, as wise and knowing and understanding as ever, ladies and gents. When we are presented with endings, it is normal to be sad, nostalgic, maybe even remorseful...but don't those endings give way to beautiful beginnings?
It is important to embrace all seasons of life, all changes, and every ending, because through those endings we are presented with new opportunities, new faces, and new memories. And so it goes.
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