armsxlikexblades

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. ~Albert Schweitzer

________________________________

She always wrote the most beautiful things
Lines and letters sculpting the formless
painting landscapes in my imagination
penetrating hidden corners long since lost to darkness
piercing me and bathing me in light

I want so much to see the world through her eyes- for mine arent used to the sunlight...
To experience the details lost to me in this endless blur of color and motion
To appreciate myself and the world in all the same ways she blankets herself in them- as if they were the most comfortable thing she'd ever worn

and while my eyes adjust, I fix them upon her obscure image...as she slowly becomes clear

I trace around the edges of her misty silhouette

Warmth,
devotion,
hope-
she hadnt lost these to the forbidding bite of an unrelenting world
caressing them like mother to child
nurturing them
embracing them
feeding them
but most of all, having an abiding faith in them

quite unlike my own grasp -the flailing of a drowning man at driftwood...holding onto such things to survive, rather than to live well- having forgotten how to swim in such icy waters once the panic set in

She seems so unlike me in that respect
unyielding
grounded...
like a dream I had of myself not long ago
when I still could have been anything - only to wake up here and now-
grounded by clipped and broken wings

I'd chalk it up to youth if I didnt admire her so
I'd call her naive if her strength didnt defy my own jaded faade
And expose it for all it is

I long to protect such beauty against this hostile panorama
allow that flower to grow wild and unmolested in the grey concrete expanse of this urban terrain
to learn from it,
to bask in it's glow as long as I might be allowed

lately, it's what I think about when I go about my day
Her fire
so bright and burning so high and hot that I - after so long waiting - finally explode into flame myself. Orange tipped spikes of envy, desire and fear...melting the frigid ice of indifference
and the cold sting of failure

When she lies in my arms
and comes further into focus
I stand closer to this precipice
jagged rocks below
waiting for that push
remembering the countless times I've spilled my guts upon those wasted shores
the feeling fading with every decent
until the slight pressure of sudden impact was all I'd feel

Suddenly I am all nerves again
Edging my own ruined corpses and sun bleached skeletons into view
tasting sensations I'd sworn to leave behind

For the first time I notice the breeze up here and the beauty of the ragged shoreline
prepared for whatever pain might come
but hoping for the high tide - and a cushion for this fall

I am clay shapeless, irresolute
begging to be sculpted into something as beautiful as she
where I might stand strongly again in the face of the wind and the rain
and leap off these cliffs with abandon -
invincible

Longing to be crafted like the words she gives life to
With purpose and meaning beyond my own flawed desires
and impact beyond my simple form

I am inspired to change
and constantly set aflame