Poetry and Such

This aching heart of mine requires not a soothing hand,
That calms so many souls battered by time and distance
That I might rest in sleep as if the world had too,

This tired soul yearns not for the ecstasy of nirvana 
That realises the perfection of self, at a distance
That floats above, far from a madding crowd

This broken body cries not because of past hurts
That gnaw and grind below a surface
That denies, “Oh the pain!”

Such miseries as I have, 
Such anguish that invades my soul
Such anger disturbing thoughts that pick flesh,
Such and such a malady that courses through my veins
Will find relief if only we can walk together.

A heaven alone is no heaven at all.

Step,

Step,

Step,

One at a time

One after

The other

With care and attention.

My steps!

Me! Mine,

For whom else could they be,

Beautiful steps, assured

Measured for excess, not possibilities

The pitch of my life ………………

The subdued unknowing

Safe in a place impossibilities.

Am I confusing you?

Does my imprecise language disturb?

Well be assured

It does the same to me!

Gloriously!

If I were to tell

You

That I love

You,

Would you believe me?

If I were to tell

You

That I think of

You,

Often

Would you smile,

In a mysterious way?

If I dared to say

In phrases delicate and perfumed,

That my trembling heart

Longs for the quiet of your touch,

Would I wake

The next day,

Whole?

Would you join your voice to mine?