Was messing on the website and saw this post got all coded up into a mess. So I’m reposting, for anyone who cares.
T.S. Eliot can not be right, because what would be the point if everything ends in such sorrow, such weakness, such whimpers.
And even though this began in silence, in winks and smiles and raised eyebrows from across a room, there was such an explosion of sounds in your eyes, the shout of chance and adventure was loud.
And at times it was a noisy messy thing; at other times silent. You are action and I am words and when they did not mix well, we stood like statues.
At those times you walked away with hurt in your eyes and I walked away in confusion, damning myself with the most simple of questions. How could I do that?
But isn’t that how explorations begin? Steps, big steps, leaps at times, false steps. But steps, closer, engagement.
And when that is not enough the silence falls for good.
Is that what has happened now?
It matters not.
And maybe this is just another tipping point.
But I think not.
And it hurts to write this; hurts to even think of it. Hurts.
And it will hurt you to read it.
But it weighs me down, and as I saw that day we briefly spoke, it troubles you.
There is no more time for trouble.
I want to stand with you on a ridge top in Maine and look at the great shimmering lake; to stand in the home of my oldest friend and watch as with amazement she looked at you, and then at me and smiled because she saw what a wonder you are .
Want to sit with you for days and tell you who I am and listen in awe as you shared the things of your life; want you to know how much this all means, and how deeply important is your caring.
But there is no more time for trouble.
You have worlds to conquer, minds and hearts to change.
So carry on, sweet girl. Things of great feeling, if they need to end, should end in clamors, and shouts of praise.
They should not end in silence.
That is a dishonest response to the noise it made in our souls. We carry in our hearts pieces of each other; it is important they are there.
Spring is coming.
I have seen you in spring colors and you light up the world. As that old song says, sunshine walks beside you.
There is an old rose bush in my back yard that needs tending. Maybe I can bring it back one more time.
Love goes a long way.
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About michaelstephendaigle
I have been writing most of my life. I am the author of the award-winning Frank Nagler Mystery series. "The Swamps of Jersey (2014); "A Game Called Dead" (2016) -- a Runner-Up in the 2016 Shelf Unbound Indie Author Contest; and "The Weight of Living" (2017) -- First Place winner for Mysteries in the Royal Dragonfly Book Awards Contest.
Heal (reposted)
Was messing on the website and saw this post got all coded up into a mess. So I’m reposting, for anyone who cares.
T.S. Eliot can not be right, because what would be the point if everything ends in such sorrow, such weakness, such whimpers.
And even though this began in silence, in winks and smiles and raised eyebrows from across a room, there was such an explosion of sounds in your eyes, the shout of chance and adventure was loud.
And at times it was a noisy messy thing; at other times silent. You are action and I am words and when they did not mix well, we stood like statues.
At those times you walked away with hurt in your eyes and I walked away in confusion, damning myself with the most simple of questions. How could I do that?
But isn’t that how explorations begin? Steps, big steps, leaps at times, false steps. But steps, closer, engagement.
And when that is not enough the silence falls for good.
Is that what has happened now?
It matters not.
And maybe this is just another tipping point.
But I think not.
And it hurts to write this; hurts to even think of it. Hurts.
And it will hurt you to read it.
But it weighs me down, and as I saw that day we briefly spoke, it troubles you.
There is no more time for trouble.
I want to stand with you on a ridge top in Maine and look at the great shimmering lake; to stand in the home of my oldest friend and watch as with amazement she looked at you, and then at me and smiled because she saw what a wonder you are .
Want to sit with you for days and tell you who I am and listen in awe as you shared the things of your life; want you to know how much this all means, and how deeply important is your caring.
But there is no more time for trouble.
You have worlds to conquer, minds and hearts to change.
So carry on, sweet girl. Things of great feeling, if they need to end, should end in clamors, and shouts of praise.
They should not end in silence.
That is a dishonest response to the noise it made in our souls. We carry in our hearts pieces of each other; it is important they are there.
Spring is coming.
I have seen you in spring colors and you light up the world. As that old song says, sunshine walks beside you.
There is an old rose bush in my back yard that needs tending. Maybe I can bring it back one more time.
Love goes a long way.
Share this:
Like this:
Related
About michaelstephendaigle
I have been writing most of my life. I am the author of the award-winning Frank Nagler Mystery series. "The Swamps of Jersey (2014); "A Game Called Dead" (2016) -- a Runner-Up in the 2016 Shelf Unbound Indie Author Contest; and "The Weight of Living" (2017) -- First Place winner for Mysteries in the Royal Dragonfly Book Awards Contest.