Walking with you is
Sneaking lonely moments
Carving out a separate continuity
A quiet correspondence is
Easily lost in the din—
Even my good pilot strains
To hear these machinations of love
Has it not even been a year?
The lights outside Urth yawn
As if traveling lightyears
Were a mundane task
When everyone finally left
It was as if time had stopped
We danced words in retrograde
By your gray mini with the
Red racing stripes (your idea)
Your gray flannel, knee length
Green eyes, deep—
You looked so warm in the lamplight
Yellow pooled at our feet
The edges a fragile boundary
Between us and the world
Walking with you leaves
A puddle of light wherever we stop
To look into each other’s eyes
A condensation of the world we share
My surface tensed against yours
In warm conversation
/‘hir,āeth/
noun
a homesickness for a home you can not return to or a home that never was.
(via serelyne)
She tells me there are too many years between us
Each wrinkle is a story I cannot fathom
And her heart is weary with years of loving
She is a constellation
And I am but a stargazer
Who did not even see her first
Others have loved the sound of her laughter that is like
The sun dissipating into bubbles by the beach
Or her deep brown eyes that are like
A memory that lingers on the edge of twilight
They have gone where I have not and yet
I want all that she is and was and will be
Even if it’s fading
Lingering on the edge of twilight–
After I saw you that night in the fire’s glow
I knew I would love you even unto dusk
My good pilot says we will stay here a while. We ate cocoa puffs with almond milk on the roof and gazed at the Hollywood sign in the distance without having to crane our necks. The sun was hot in the east glaring down Wilshire, and we had to take shelter under an umbrella. I asked him if it was time to dream again. He said it was time to love. I folded up our paper plane and wedged it next to Psalm 132.
So I plucked courage from an eagle and asked her to dinner. The fire pit cast a warm glow on her soft features and the 12 years between us - firelight makes beautiful things indelible, like cave paintings within, and I fell in love with the baby wrinkles around her hazel eyes. We cradled amber glasses of fire for a while and I watched her watch the stars. She was the brightest light in my horizon, and I felt filled with the hope of love, not only pursued, but promised. I remember when we held hands during prayer, and when I hugged her and she pressed her hair against my chest, painting silent promises on my heart.
My good pilot smiles as I tell him all of these things, as if he had known all along. I ask him to hold onto these promises with me. We sip lattes on 6th and smile with full hearts as planes pass silently overhead.
The sound of hurricanes never wanes
My good pilot tarries, patient
A sunrise, a sunset
I learned to stop looking over my shoulder
You asked me to build a dream with you
I sipped a dark pour at the gate
My good pilot tells me there is time for love
But how can I love with arms wide open?
Perhaps I can be a part of something
A part of you is just a passenger too
At the very least there are words
Glances over dark pours, early and late
Come, let us pray in the twilight
For the sun to mete a favorable time
To exchange clock for compass—
Can a heart surrendered still have
A destiny with you, however brief?
A place among the lights that pass beneath.
