Swimming For Whales

You sail by
By my heart
You are in a light
A light that doesn't exist
Here or now
But it does exist there
There it is
And there it does

Where?
How can I get there?

Sleep in a cocoon
Being born and reborn
Sleep in a box
Being dead and dying

The light is never in sight
Always in heart
Your heart
My heart

Always hot
Never cold
Well, what is wrong with cold?
What is right with hot?
And what is right with cold?
What is wrong with hot?

They are one,
Anyway.
And so are you
So am I

Hot and cold
Here and there
Lovely, is it not?

Cloaked

I tremble and cower behind the log. The figure floats closer. I try to make out what that noise is; I realize it's the figure ... humming a tune that tickles the back of my heart. I know I've heard the song before, but where? And when? Not that it matters, in the circumstance.
The figure comes closer, into a ray of moonlight. It is a woman, looking around as though she is trying not to notice anything in particular. She is a tortured soul, tortured by her terror of paying attention.
I rise from behind the log and lean upon my cane before stepping closer to her. "Miss," I say, quietly. She jerks her gaze to my face for a split-second and then continues floating around with that look on her face. That is when I recognize her.
I take off my cloak and wrap it around her shoulders, pin it at the front. I whisper to her, "Have patience. Have acceptance. You are loved."
I turn and walk home. I open the heavy chest at the foot of my bed and take out the old cloak, the one that has been restitched and mended and patched so often that you cannot even tell what it originally looked like. I gently stroke the cloth in memory of a time long gone. I am old now, I have done my duty to the world, to myself.

Us

Why stars we be
When all is cast?
Mayhap terra
Mayhap indeed
The deed has yet
To be done.

Beginnings

Memories happen again

Not a year and a day
Not hard to be soft
Strength the eighth card
I feel you in me
I see me in you
Winter is dead?
It is just warming up.

Would It Be So Bad?

Hiding. I'm hiding. You are hiding.

We turn our faces away.

But no way is there to

keep from seeing that

we are all the same.

I am hiding this and you are hiding that.

Yet I know what you are hiding and you know what I am.

What if we relaxed our necks, stopped facing the other way?

What if we saw face forward, head on, what we were all hiding?

Would the world explode?

Or would we all start crying and laughing with the relief?

I fear my fear of fear.

The fear of showing myself,

all the parts of me that I can't see.

If I bore my soul and my body to you,

what would the reaction tell?

Would you back away slowly or come and hug me?

I would like to say I'm going to stop hiding and start showing,

but that is what I cannot promise.

Maybe in the end I will gain the courage

to give you courage the same.

That Feeling

Dawn slowly shows

The windows yellow

The rocky peak is pink

Orchestral calls of birds

Heavy blankets weigh

Your legs held down

By warmth in midst

Of morning chills

Mist gathers miles above

Gathers and draws more

Clouds reflect the new sun

The old sun, always there

Oceanus

The sea's eyes
See that white dress
Floating
Swirling in the dark waters
Of the bay

The sea's eyes
See the black wood
A hand reaches down

The white, beautiful fabric
Is gone
Gone with that hand
Made with skin
That was blacker than night

As black as the very bottom
of the deepest of the ocean.