About the Lines of my Pages

About the Lines of my Pages

I breathe him in on the edge of thin air

His shoulders arch in the proud symmetry of gods

breaking the world’s noise into creation

His skies turn silent with storms

As that thrilling melody runs throught the universe

Through his veins and

Into mine…

There’s space between our hands now

Because our eyes are opened into the force that births us endlessly

And gives meaning to time.

Purpose.

M.

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About Fires

I laid breathlessly into blue sun storms,

Smoke rose from our skin in the darkness of the Universe,

You pulled my hair back, tighten your hand around my neck

And descended above me in light like the God that you are.

 

M.

About Revival

About Revival

At the end of a hopeless dark road

I entered the quiet place between his ancient walls. All my fears screamed on the tips of my hair but stayed behind… the memory of a time of peace embraced me with its serenity.

His hands were sculpting stone into endless jewelry.

I stood in the flowing of a timeless time and forgot the shape of my words as my eyes caressed his long hair, his skin, his eyes the color of the universe that rose up to me.

I forgot to breathe as colors faded into the only picture of heaven my story teller had told me about, a suspended place where souls without a shape recognized eachother.

I dived into his peace as if I was swimming with dolphins in the oceans of the world again.

He stretched his hand and put it around my neck. He said that it was not water that I was searching for. He said it was fire.

His fingers moved lightly on my skin and through my careless hair,

He said I had wings and that there had been a time when I didn’t fear heights and the depths that people feared had been my freedom. He said that within that I had had my peace.

I felt his heat as he put a story around my neck and told me to fly.

I walked back into that flowing, back into the dark road and my words, colors, my breath, they all returned to me and a big fire was burning lighting up the way.

In it, I heard my fears moaning in a voice I could no longer recognize.

M.

About Completeness in a Shape

There is a picture in the back of my childhood memory of a warm place between two arms overthrowing the dark mountain.
It is safe, it becomes our throne as we both reign over the world of truth. We do not know of other worlds.

The river that slithers our closeness avoids the circle your fingers drew so that the bluest of blue waters can come to turn our longing into our life’s victory.

We sit in it, listening to the soft velvet waves of stories descending from the clouds of the horizons.

We speak our words, my words mostly, the ones I wrote in the early times of understanding when I was running away from the common hearts and tongues. They get under your skin you said, they turn you into nothingness.

You understand my madness between the skin of my thoughts, you love them and push my pen outside the contours of your love,

The black endless sky.

You say it is easy for me, I see the words in shapes and colors and linden flowers.

You break my storms in pieces with your calmness and touch,

I bow because I know you must go to the land of Gods where you belong, to find your soul

While I write mine,

And when our time will come again

We’ll find eachother with a smile, as we did, while the blue waters will retreat and the mountain will take us back to its kingdom

Because by then we will have become the king and queen of our lives.
M.

About Beginnings

About Beginnings

Tiffany: “I was a slut. There will always be a part of me that is dirty and sloppy, but I like that, just like all the other parts of myself. I can forgive. Can you say the same for yourself, fucker? Can you forgive? Are you any good at that?”

About a Place

“I remember the corner.
The corner of your colour, the corner of your smile. The corner where we kissed.
The street corners turning into the corners of the corridor.
Into the corners of the room where we lay.
The corners of your mouth, of your eyes.
The corners of words we didn’t finish.
The corner of your name.
On the corner where we parted.
I remember the corner.”