my careless contagion

Slipping in and out of sleep, I dreamed you were here, your body against mine. Through closed eyes, we felt one another across a great distance. You teased me repeatedly, making me want you, then retreated, asking me what's wrong. There's nothing wrong with wanting. What's wrong is the not having, not being sure, grasping for the golden ring, like falling in love with a movie star from long ago.  My eyes opened, and you weren't there. But I was sure you were momentarily, visiting repeatedly. We connected across time and space, like a portal yawned open for a moment. Our souls touched. Our hearts met. Then you were gone again.  Are you a wild animal which refuses to be kept, more at home in the forest than with man? A cat, a fox, a wolf. All have been tamed to a degree, but all retain a wild heart. The fox in The Little Prince said we are forever responsible for what we have tamed. But you there is no taming. You come and go as you please — like the wind, the waves, a fi...

She doesn't exist beside me but she will  someday she will hold my hand through thick and thin through sickness and health through poverty and wealth Even if I have to create her breathe her to life somehow she will be there Even if I don't know how I will find a way and form her out of clay and quivering breath I ache for her Hope for her and wait for her to join me someday What she looks like I don't even care what she feels like in my arms doesn't even matter she is made for me and I will treat her as the best part of me Created by desire and thousands of prayers made out of love and hope and years of plaintive tears What a woman If I hold her hand will I feel flesh or her naked soul? If I embrace her will I feel warm skin or my soul touching hers It doesn't matter what the world tells me I know she's out there It doesn't matter what my thoughts tell me my heart knows I tell my heart to wait be patient, be still sit quietly before God But I feel my heart ...

The truth is a two-edged sword. It liberates you, but sometimes what it liberates you from is yourself. It cuts to the bone, severing tendons and muscle and ligaments. Nothing stands in its way when it comes to dividing truth from fiction. Sometimes what it makes you see is the very thing you want to hide from.  Love doesn't matter. I'm not a cynic. It's not just bitterness talking. I mean, of all the things in the world that matter, love is at the bottom. Money matters. Good health, sure. Family, friends, a good head on your shoulders, maybe an education or a job with a good benefits package; all of that matters. Love, well, love is Tinsel Town stuff, frippery, the kind of thing that sells books and movies because people like to believe in it, but it's absolute shit.  My whole life, I thought love mattered. Sitting here now, I realize nothing could be further from the truth. Human love is not worth spit. There is no human good enough to die for, or, well, to lo...