Future, remember?

Again imagination and the sea go well together, the surface
a mirror not to be disturbed. Sailing vessels at a distance.
Room enough to forgive myself and others for having imagination,
for having thoughts that might do well on tempest waves
where one goes overboard quite easily. You seem nauseous enough already.

I like it calm and boring, and would have my days with you this way.
There is a lot of deep out there that we could look at, hand in hand
and shake our heads before we smile and take the slow walk back.
All turmoil seems a waste of time. The day would end with wine and
music somewhere playing, with spending night in safety of each other’s arms.

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Fedora

It was here on the beach that your Fedora blew off
and you ran to catch it, years ago already.
I didn’t think you could go so fast.

You gave the hat to me and made a photo of me wearing it.
An ordinary happy day. One of many. Unimportant.
Our life together.

The sand has moved, the sea came and went.
Millions of grains, thousands of tides later nothing has changed
except you are dead now, your hat torn and gone.

Happy days are like that, they mean nothing, they do nothing,
they are nameless days on calendars with no real events,
until only sand is left. No more you. No more Fedora. It was all wonderful.

 

Awareness

I felt a wave of dying men, and heard their cries, and smelt the river mud
that came from beige and brown. From Somme and Rhine.
I stood where they had been, in Summer
to see what they had seen: the sun, a bridge, a girl and death.

Sometimes a wave tells horrid stories on the beach, a restless voice recalls the bitter times, and I walk by; it is not always meant for me to hear, but it goes on for ever.

I need awareness of the whole we are, the earth and us, the birth, the pain.
You feel my love, I feel you far away and almost gone. There is no telling who we are in all of this but we are part. We dwell, move on.

I feel the peace that we all find one day, it lies deep in ourselves. The first, the last man knows, and in between, we live. We love. We can’t do more. I am aware that deep inside, where we are one, we are alone as well.

Dying waves

The waves well know a way to reach the borders of the sea
and touch the beach if only for a moment;
there is no telling what they’ll find on solid ground.
Is it the thrill of something never found?
Why do they keep on trying to be where they can’t stay?

Waves are forever dying in achievement
with all the history that forced them onto  land.
Like me they strand, like me they disappear
as only for a moment I am here where we can meet
and no, I won’t be waiting.

 

sigh.  sometimes nature speaks wisdom to me  🙂

fading of a maybe love

the days start well now he is no longer an issue
as he is fading she gets things done
like work and remembering food
not thinking of him first thing in the morning

there is a lot going on even so
and she only compares others to his image
once in a while when no one is watching

as his appearance is fading in reverse
going back to the mist where he was before
the days end well now he is
an issue of fading importance

Protected: The true man

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Lay your head on my shoulder and wait
For now the first birds sing
And we won’t interfere
Let’s listen, let’s hear
Nothing more.

Just you and me and morning sun
A day beginning in a dream
All the past behind us
Will not interfere
Not anymore.

Moving on
From pain to you
From past to future
To a place we were before
Forever loving, forever more.

Lay your head
On my shoulder and let me
Make you safe. Now I know you
And you know me also. Now
We move on, nothing less, only more.

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