Open the Gate

Death and loss

We rendezvous in hazy dreams,

but you hasten away with the morning light.

I look for your fading visage in

your poetry,

beautiful yet sometimes turbulent words that

mirror your duality, O Janus,

god of New Beginnings.

Words that are joyful like a child,

Lovely words that seem otherworldly.

And hardened words -

concrete reminders

of pain's heaviness upon your soul. 

Profundity arises like a spirit

from the simplicity of your genius.

You have left, departed for home,

and left me here alone, picking, always picking

fragile petals of memories.

Sometimes saying, I must confess,

as they flutter down,

"He loved me,

He loved me not."

I miss you, I truly do.

I had a dream of walking along a bridge,

the wind nipping at my hair,

dark locks flying everywhere.

There I read a love poem,

and cried bittersweet tears, 

A gust of wind suddenly arose,

taking the letter from my hand and 

sending it into the river.

It floated for awhile 

and then sank to the murky depths.

I looked to the other side of the bridge, 

and realized it was never completed,

A bridge to no where.

I heard your voice calling me, 

but there was no way to get over to the other side.

I wonder why I thought

the bridge was built for you and me.

Disillusionment means

the end of believing an illusion.

It is like being in a lucid dream,

realizing the bridge

is in your imagination,

and the beautiful words 

weren't meant for you

after all.

"