I call you Love.
I hesitantly whisper of beauty as the possibility of you.
A beauty that softens. melts.
The wind that tickles the trees and makes them shiver.
The leaves slowly dripping, catching in my hair and scarf.
The far off hills that hold me still. motionless.
The tender human touch that renders me silent.
I call you Grace.
Yet.
This is an abstraction.
A theoretical concept.
A series of ideas to be discussed and debated.
You are an abstraction.
When I am honest.
This is not my reality.
This is not personal.
Not my own.
If I am honest.
I will call you
Distant.
I would call you
Harsh Judgement.
I will call you
Silent.
I call you
Absent.
3 comments:
I too, have and do struggle with the seemingly uncrossable void between concrete and abstraction, personal experience and objective distance. Here are some small thoughts I have come up with thus far:
what is love?
but the bud breaking for the berry,
the berry breaking for the deer;
bread broken for the body.
and what is mercy?
but open sky delivering endless streams
into fields that puddle like open palms
filled to overflowing.
missmissmiss you. i hope my mails are making it to your little abode.
People should not comment while buzzed.
Too late.
Voltaire once said, that "The more he truly became wise, the more he distrusted everything that he knew."
The gray will always perplex. But it is the courage to confront such perplexities, that we stumble upon our own irrationalities.
I love you. Come home already!
i just sent you a little birdy...happy t-day! (its a bit odd celebrating with the Brits I know)
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