Spiritual Knowing

You once asked "What do you want out of life?"

Not long ago, in lives recent and past, it had been you.  Then my changeling self craved transparency.  I wanted nothing but to feel the wind blow through my yielding body, like a ghost with form.  To know all of the secrets hidden in dimensions beyond our sight, to be free.  To know freedom without holding back or holding in.

You were energized by my prose but you were always that way!  Forever reaching toward me, feigning strength and idealism.  I could feel the rising of your desire, it filled the room and our spirits became interwoven,  a familiar pairing since our beginning incarnations.  To know you in intimate ways became my obsession, for this I had given myself to freedom.  Wanting to be fully enlivened in my body and my spirit, tangled up with you.

But I accept that you are honour bound and a coward!  These qualities get mistook one for the other.  Now to unbind myself from this entrainment.  Perhaps there is no freedom after all, no place to hide, no transparency from which to feel and know everything.  It does not blow through, but leaves me saturated in residue.  I hold the scissors but am without capacity to sever the tie.

35 words

Exhaused.
She sat under the lamp light
drinking tea.
Considering the direction
of the wind
Feeling the solar flares aimed
straight at these northern climes
Lighting up the night sky,
magnetic fields uncertain
and alarmed.

November

She thought about it and decided that this was, just maybe, the saddest November she could recall.  The darkness was falling, like a curtain, a little lower each day.  All the things she once loved about this place, the cold crunch of snow beneath her feet and the brilliance of a gazillion stars overhead, just didn't seem to be enough to satisfy the present.

Of course, she was well aware that she was projecting into the future.  A distant day when she would be, could be, happy.  Where the dreams of twenty years would begin coming true, popping into reality like kernels of corn.

So much silence between us.  It feels like the wind blowing on a cold winter's day across the prairies.  There is desolation and yet the wind cannot extinguish this current that binds us.

My telepathy is stronger than it used to be.  You are probably to thank for these increasing psychic abilities that tether us like a pole and ball.  I hit it hard with an open hand, but all that force just gets wrapped in a downward spiral.  Perhaps we are best described by gravity.  Our force brings us down.

She said that I carry your vibration around in the world with me.  I already knew that but even still it was nice to hear the words, audible in this translation of reality.   When I saw you the other day you seemed to look into me.  I did my best to look back but there were a million things happening in that small quiet room that took my attention away.  My mind was a buzz with the things I should do, should say.  In the end, I never did say or do much of anything.

twisting turning unanswerable karma

What are the chances that you would be in that room tonight?  How ever in my mind did I conjure you up?  Are my powers of manifestations so strong?  Did it surprise you as much as it did me?  Or did it just seem like the most ordinary, natural thing in the world?  That we should meet over coffee and books, sharing neither.  I grieve at this charade.

I turned my head and there you were.  My hands trembled.  My breath held still within my chest.

I tried to see you, unclouded.  But I don't know how to do that.  Yet I know you are pain.  Heartbreak.  I like it better when you are in dreams.  This flesh and blood is not for me.

Now I'm home alone drinking wine and listening to Jim Cuddy on the stereo, letting incense burn.  I hate myself for wanting you.  Why don't I want to be free of this karma?  I don't understand this current that sweeps me down the river, drowning me in undertows of you.  But I rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.  Each time gasping for air.  Filled.  Empty.  Choking.  Drowning.  Never dying.

Couldn't I at least get a decent orgasm out of all of this...

New Memories

Your eyes gleamed that day with mischief.  I saw you picking me out of the crowd long before I ever reached where you stood.  Our magnetic poles once again syncing with superpower force.  Gravity still holding us down but not apart. Out of the corner of my eye I saw your brother register that it was me, surprised by this reflection of the past.  He kept hedging a look, silently questioning, piecing together the deja vu of it all.  Condemning me for lifetimes of always finding my way back to you.

I tried to remember years back, just how it was you used to looked at me.  But the best I could recall was one time in my parents' kitchen, how you lifted me onto the washing machine and kissed me until my last sense had long fled.  You always had an intensity.   Seeing me in ways I don't think I was yet capable of seeing you.  I'd give you more credit for that now.  Now I know that you say what you say, create the moment and life as it is needed.  Did you always do that and I missed it?

On this day, I felt it as my smile wrapped you up, knew my eyes were snapping with expression.  My heart opening a channel as we matched each other word for unspoken word.   The observers read more than either of us would have liked.  I reached out to touch your arm just before I turned to go so that later, when I wanted to remember, I would know that it was real, that I could trust the memory.