Letters to Dandelion (2 page)

I would let her know, that anything she did, that may have
been done to her, that
may be presently happening and will happen in the future, is nothing because
her

will can see her through. And why let the naysayers win
anyway?

Stopping by a bridge, I inquire, “Is a bridge never crossed
over, the same as a bridge
which never exists?” And hope that she drew an understanding, if you always
stay
on one side of belief of what the world has been so far, you can never know
what
may exist on the other side of love, of life or hope without crossing over to
see.

Even if it were bad, her adventurous spirit can agree that
she had made another stride

towards pushing past a new barrier, and if there was
something good, then she is that
much richer for taking the journey.

I thought about all of this, while visions of her swam about
inside my head.

…. And
this was my Epiphany.

Living on Gifted Time.

It’s funny, how Man thinks and draws his thoughts sublime.

When the world seems to shrink and life slows to a painful
grind.

Seconds seem like days, as the torture sets into mind,

and it’s when we give in, to give up, we cross over to
living
on gifted time.

What a present awaiting was mine.

A smiling, cheerful happy soul, who suffered through lessons
untold;

witnessed with eyes as ice blue and a name so precious the
suffix is Gold.

She has had the hard lessons, the
loveless beginnings,

the careless endeavors, the early
exposures, the awakening commitments,

the frightful moments, the near
fatal occurrences, the insightful provisions,

the forward motivations, the
tireless struggles, the empty conclusions, the

disappointing realizations, the
frustrating awakenings, the painful truths,

the old becoming older and the now
a new path to with me coming into view.

She is still youthful and
beautiful and caring.

She has a heart and a soul and is
committed to me.

She is a true girlfriend, a true
team player, a visionary and

a partner.

And I love her.

Because when I was so internally
ready to completely give up, and I

saw no other way out, her smile
and her laughter
was there to lead me to a new vision.

She came and made the old
and worthless – worthy.

She made the useless
- useful, and the empty on its way to 

full and whole.

And all she wants is for me to
love her.

I have been here before and this
time, I have made the right decision.

Subliminal Curtain

I could see a woman,

who thought she had saw it all.

She had been through many travels,

that her daring life to her unraveled.

And engaged fearlessly as the figurative,

“Mouse who roared.”

Advanced now in years; refined, disguised,

maybe in a guise encompassing past struggles

through un-metered loves, which seemed to be

what she wanted but not deserved in pleasure

or in agony.

There she was, just a vision of beauty –

for she stood so tall, as tall as her tippy-toes

would allow.

She was proud.

So proud of herself, I could see.

And that she should be.

Nothing was handed to her.

Nothing came easy.

Her subtle confidence exudes in her walk,

and a smile per every syllable as she talks,

bore a peaceful, pressurless demeanor which

was her blossoming gift back to the world.

Little does she know, that through this thin veil 

She attracts me so.

Like a child captivated by the glow of a candle flame.

She would consider me lame; an infant in her eyes.

Yet, while daily she is beauty toward my own.

If only I could find a way, to say,

I enjoy every beat of who she is.

Her triumphs wear like gold on her skin.

I can resound softly in her disappointments,

and I can hold her and love her, like a Man.

Time and Chance …

So, let it be known, that the race is not geared towards
the swift, nor made to suit the strong…,

But time and chance; overtake them all.       
(Ecclesiastes 9:11)

There is a window in life, where all things come to pass.

A time when good things happen, and sometimes very bad.

A period of grace, where a person may think, this is just
the norm;

to a placid point where they do not even see the quiet,
- before the storm.

A time that is set, to build up and then tare down,

A time when many tears may fall to the ground,

A time when anger appears to be your best and only friend,

An era where pain and suffering seems to simply have no end.

But then, there are also times of such intense good.

Where life is being all that it should;

a gift from God that it was meant to be;

For when I met you, that good moment finally happened for
me.

With so many factors between us;

Age, placement, timing, and status,

We have so much in common, yet remained in separate stasis.

(As time went by, in its unhurried sort of time-like way.)

From your travels, making yourself a marvel,
mentally, literally and culturally.

To my battles, forging me externally,
tenaciously, strenuously and somewhat bitterly.

But, when I am around you, things all feel smoothened so
evenly.

All the rough edges, blend together within the sound of your

voice and the flapping of soft wings, as time flies right
out the window.

And I sometimes think,

“I may have never met you.”

How unlucky would that have been?

My luck’s never been great, given the circumstances.

I am so lucky to ever have.

Why wouldn’t I celebrate …

In who you are?

No matter how close we may be,

Near or far.

Whether you like me or hate,

Prefer me or abhor me,

I love you.

Because you mean no one any harm.

Because I can see the good,

And I can see the strength,

And I can feel the peace,

And I can sense the struggle.

I can watch the light, brightly, as it shines in your smile,

And revel in the soft music of your voice,

as I receive the wisdom of your travels.

I can witness the pride in your stride
and the humbleness in your silence.

I cannot tell you, in the scope of this sometimes harsh and
brutal world,

Just how truly beautiful you are.

Where an energy so intangible, seems to shower away from you
like
pollen in the spring, has taken root and now grows inside my heart.

I can never possess you.

My touch might ruin you,
my kiss may devalue you,

but my honest love for you,

allows me to celebrate, that I met you

I think you are a wonderful person.

No matter if you feel nothing for me.

I cannot control the world.   I can only witness it.

And wish in it.

My wish is to get to know you.

Be a friend.

And feel the snow that falls softly in my being when I am
close to you.

I know you feel this way about someone.

Maybe just not me.

Show me your heart.

Within
all of Your precious beauty,

please
(consider) showing me, Your heart.

Show
me the spot, where with which

I
can start –

To
speak words of deep love to,

towards
in the dark.

Please,
please, please allow me,

-
to see the spot,

where
with a wet fingered kiss,

I
can caress, the access of hidden bliss,

the
secret to Your cavernous seductiveness.

The
place where if I were allowed to go,

I
know,

exists
room to grow; room to get to know

what
makes You, You.

What
helplessly draws me in,

electing
to be the guardian,

to
the center of Your precious being.

Maybe
Your heart has been broken before ?

I
could find all the pieces.

Maybe
the trust has dried inside ?

I
could moisten the pain with pure tears to cry.

Maybe
it’s only a matter of time,

before
You decide,

to
love again.

So,
please show me the spot, where I may -

Or
may not;

become
a part.

But,
at least, I would know where the radiance of who

You
have grown to become,

had
gotten its start.

I would never hurt you….

For being the POT,

            I know how the level of intensity that heat can
feel.

Being the FLOWER,

            I know the slow dry death of not being, watered,

                        Not being given sunshine,

                                    And the sting of a
vindictive bee. (many actually)

Being a BAR OF GOLD,

            Sometimes pondering my own luster,

                        being desired for all the wrong
reasons,

                                    And knowing of my “true
value”, wanting to be with the right

                                    person to enjoy our
worth together.

Also from the standpoint of being Gold, I can envision your
incredible potential.

From being the STRAY CAT,

            Hiding my pained and saddened face,

                        Running away from children wanting
to play,

                                    And howling and crying
my hungry self to sleep in need of a friend in the

                                    darkness.

As being likened to the FIGHTER,

            Who has won and lost many bloody battles,

                        but decided he would much rather
have spent that time loving instead.

For being the DEMENTED PRISONER,

            With just enough sense left to yell at you
through the iron bars,

                        “Don’t come this way !”

For being the ANGERED CHILD,

            Who sought to be strong,

            Only to end up so weak,

                        Sought to Die,

                        Due to living,

                                    Hated the World,

                                    And wonders if any of
this has even changed.

Yet still hopes and believes for the one person who may help
to make this journey in life worthwhile and meaningful.

For being the MIRROR,

            Who would never lie to you, but show you your
every distinct detail,

                        Your inner beauty,

                                    Your slight
imperfections,

                        Your
amazing progress.

Do this quietly,

Lovingly,

Unconditionally,

And all at the same while, exposing my own qualities

with you to share.

Who being the DREAMER,

            Can completely see your dreams,

                        Know the desires of your heart,

And would stand against the entire world with you until they
became a reality.

I would never hurt you …

Because, to me?

All of you is what I see,

Our experiences,
could easily make US a “
WE
”.

We have both,

            Sought at the same level.

            Fought at the same level,

            Loved at the same level,

and      Lost at the same level.

Why do I say this and
not try to make a comparison?

Because all experiences are of the “utmost” matching to the
exposition of one’s life.