It's all about butterfly wings and tornadoes
I, myself, balance between swollen overconfidence and debilitating insecurity
coincidence can reveal connections that might not have emerged otherwise
don't (I won't) let the miraculous become commonplace
no erosion to our shared experience, just a rehearsal
we have amnesia every day, vanishing in a flash
finding meaning where there was none
the narrator of my life, the plain pure presence of him
Setting sail for destinations I haven't chosen.
I will not go quietly into the anywhere
I am already there, screaming and shouting
for our names to be recorded in the book of lies
He could listen to a lock and understand it's secrets
The primitive air of love surrounds us still
one we share with no one else, where moon flowers
angel flowers and water lilies dance the night away
no erosion to our shared experience of making the rules
we have amnesia every day, vanishing in a flash
always finding meaning where there is none
but when I close my eyes, I drown every single night
an explosion beneath the surface draws my attention
I don't think I'm the only one who's been looking
I've always enjoyed the artifacts, grazed against the surface
of the pale moon of the breast, a momentous revelation
before I understood the way that love can scoop you out
it's a matter of degree, this new world cure for loneliness
he's telling the truth about something, the unusual connection to the wine
how good of a writer do I have to be to bring us a happy ending
my task is to sift through the levels of ash
we're looking for evidence of God, or maybe just for company
the grail forever sought, purification by fire where blood has spilled
and somehow, through luck and work a miracle
his second set of eyes watch me as I enter the room
to stay...forever in his gaze using magical thinking
to cement this wish, alchemy of bleeding into you
and to exist in a space between the earth and the see.
but when I close my eyes, I drown every single night.
the rules always belong to those who make them
(Urgent Seeking Of Round Things Hidden)
"someday", he thought, "I'll tell her everything"
©Donna Marie Surles February 2011