For Ways

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Ways

　

　

　

　

　

Excuse me but what is fact,

if its not merely an interpretation

of certainty.

 

After all, besides molecules and space

what do we really have left,

but slant assumptions?

 

Iota’s of interval trapped in insight,

or shreds of expanse torn clear of explanation,

a crumb of while

dropped on a floor

of explicatory,

or a dripping mouthful

of margin

lapped onto

life's rebuttal.

 

Reality is an illusion

that virtually,

won’t go away.

 

I mean if there was not gravity

couldn’t the ceiling

not be the floor?

 

Maybe we change our certitudes about life

a little.

 

Or, maybe not.

 

Hey these are all your principium’s on white horses people,

not mine.

 

Why is it when we look at someone’s face

we only see the outside features,

instead of a whole life cradle of songs,

and sadness.

 

These scintilla’s of shadow

that form atop the skylights to her soul,

or the dab of dimension on her nose,

that crinkles so when she snorts,

or the hints of span around the corners

of her mouth, that turn up just so adorably,

when you say I love you, over, and over,

and over, again.

 

Lets fill this chasm sweet love

between yesterday and tomorrow

with the entire of our devotion,

and sanctity.

 

Through the fiber of your core sweet dear

I seek, your cherish.

 

You, with your presence effervescent,

like stars can only dream of,

radiate

my semblance,

as the darker my heart gets;

seeing rainbows in mere paler shades of grey,

the brighter,

your smile becomes.

 

Everyday my thoughts float

from the winds of my lungs

to your lips heart,

laced with silk accedence

and pearls, of

engagement.

 

And yet,

it is the words, in and of themselves

and the sounds they are married to,

that fear you sweet love.

 

As they affright in humility,

that even they cannot invent the right combinations

of letters to describe your enchanting grace

and, delectable elegance.

 

I wish I could promise you a world

within our heart my love.

 

But it is cloud

that is promise, isn’t it?

 

Whereas, it is reaping, that is rain.

 

And still, life itself doesn’t even promise us,

to be wonderful,

does it?

 

I wrote these words tonight on a letter

of stationary and then folded it

into a paper airplane.

 

I closed my eyes and threw it

your way,

so very,

far away,

and the moon cried,

as the wind howled at that moment

as it seemed to grab it

and whisk it away.

 

It was foggy,

and it was dark as loneliness.

As it disappeared

into the mist, hanging low,

over the lake

as the sun cowardly ducked off the edge

of horizon.

 

I guess I’ll never know

if my message ever made it to you

or not my love.

 

But one thing I do know,

is that if you look up high into the night

and somehow, see my hand,

reach out to it,

and hold it tight.

 

Between your fingers

interlaced with mine

we hold there

all that we ever

really needed,

in that space,

in this time,

our, promise,

of love,

for ways,

evermore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Ladysue]

This was really good writing. I absolutely love the last verse....

[~Princess~]

awwwws that really good (tear) she's very lucky i loved the mood too.

[Narnie]

Lucky Lady. The mood changes throughout the whole poem skilfully before ending on a quietness. (thanks for your review... I kinda like that one too :) )

[heido]

She weeps..
For the joy of it all.