Always

Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah

"In the end I will find the right words, and they will be simple." - Jack Kerouac

So it dies with silence
Words that once turned
You to me
Now disrupts
My precious two cups
Svelte sweet
Lain before your feet
Do not move you to dance

The heart that leaped
Lies lethargic
to hide
Lethargic lies
Used
To cover
Over
A second breath
That was little more
Than the trail
Of the first
Or
Second sight
That's all right
It was nothing
Except
It was everything

Despite all done
To increase the dark
I fought to create my own light
And it burned so bright
Perhaps
Too bright
For creatures
Given day sight
Retreated to the dark
Surrender to a world of perfect night
Light by a stillborn new moon

How long can you search
For someone who doesn't know they are lost
Till you realize
That you are the one
Only searching for yourself

So as I grow tired of hiding behind the swift glances that poetry provides... here is a little prose

I wonder if blind Samson glanced in Delilah'a direction one last time, with that look that only a lover can give another, The furious passions unspoken, woirds could never express.  Where texts are told with only the lift of an eyebrow.  Did they hold the communication before his hands pressed in rage and defiance against the columns?  ,

Epic.  Those were my words.  Tragic: those were hers.  I was the romantic reborn.  She, a calculated realist.

So it was.

It is so much easier to write a poem.  The comfort of inference, the universal.  But perhaps my words have become too staccato.  A little more than a return to the base, anything more might bring the pain.  Bottled messages tossed into the sea with nothing more than the hope that one might, just might, reach her shore.  In my clouded madman's logic I hoped that each would reach... eventually.

This would be the song.  The gentle cascade of glittering memories.  A refreshing spring rain in the middle of winter.  Just like the song, beautiful beginnings.  It was.  That much I know.  The gentle curve of your lips forming the simple smile.  The nervous, burning proximity.  So close.  So very close.  Questioning passion leaping like static from one to the other building to the brink of an uncontrolled dynamo.  The only allowable burning escape formed within the light in your eye.  Your simmering whiplash grin. Beckoned acceptance.  Crying invitation. How it filled my world; so dark, so cold, so afraid.  In our heated glances, life erupted  So glorious.  So shining.  So incredibly brilliant.  The world would bask in its warmth.  The stolen touch.  The passion that boiled to a fevered pitch.  We reveled in each other blissfully unaware of the Fates angrily gnashing their teeth.  Their rage as the simple action of my holding your a hand, a gentle stroke against your heated thigh, or even the softest brushing of lips forged our bond further.  A simple solidarity unknowingly against a system so suffocating, a world where the darkness would consume light, but we shone.  Burned brilliant in our defiance.  Perfection embodied in the glory of the innocent savages combining striving for union.

Desire smoldered.  Effortless.  Natural.  Sacred.  When we made love you used to cry.

It started good.  At least that much could be said.  It was something to be cherished.  Frozen images stay fresh, as long as they are frozen.

All are eventually cast out of Eden.

The whispers.  The cracks.  Subtle at first, so I could avoid.  Continue to play the game.  All was right.  All was well.  Come the rise of heaven or hell, we could last.  We would.  Maybe.  Then a night of union.  You probably didn't know, or maybe didn't care.  For some, distance drove a heart wild with passion, for others... it makes them miss the warmth.  Crisis doesn't develop character it reveals it.  But I noticed.  The lovers grip had become loose.  A tenuous and faltering grip.  My eyes closed as le petit mort enveloped me.  I tried to forget the blasphemy of the scarred sacred.

Desperately I tried to continue the serenade, but then your blue shutters closed.  Night moves that cemented our union became a charade of passion.  Not for me, or maybe it was.  Shall I tell about the drives   The more you drew back the more I drew close.  I still remember the sudden night drive.  As darkness enveloped my streak across a desolate landscape I had the excitement of the life of you, of your precious garden to press me on as mile followed mile.  And the journey ended when I found home in your arms.  In the collapse of one into the other souls danced and melded returning to a unified flow.

When we made love you used to cry

All that I have said, I have said before.  Shall I talk of the pain?  The piercing? No.  I've had too much happen to me for another cold and lonley Hallelujah.  In one of your darkest and loneliest nights you turned to me.  For a moment we were allowed to step into the periphery of Eden.  

Perhaps the sight was too good.  Too grand.  Even the hint of the glory reborn was too great.

The fates.  made angry would have their revenge.  Fear began to encompass you like a suffocating blanket that was always too short to offer any protection..  You used it to hide from me, while you would show others a glimpse.  They could touch, but they couldn't feel.  They could feel, but they couldn't taste, They could taste but they couldn't eat.  They could eat but they couldn't grow strong.

Save I grew strong.

So it goes.

These aren't the right words, so I guess its not the end.

So I wish you a Merry Christmas, and a broken Hallelujah.

Always