The Ness of It All

Tucking my hair behind my ears,

caressing my bangs over my eyes,

you checked in constant assurance

that I always heard and saw you.

Your hands guided my chin upward

so my eyes could share

the unspoken truth…

I was forever present with your one-ness.

Memories immortalize moments,

freezing scenes of tender-ness,

loving-ness and kind-ness

while all else now falls

in helpless-ness  to a backdrop

of what is now real life.

Words echo,

I was everything to you

and I haven’t been ever since

to anyone else…

Oh, yes, there have been lovers

who crafted beautifully the arts

of rapture,

passion,

ecstasy,

gratification…

but the nothing-ness,

the ever so encompassing-ness

of allowing me

to love endlessly

without holding back

buried itself with you

long ago.

When I permit myself

the act of giving

I am returned with akward-ness–

a full disclosure

that you are not in them,

and I am not in me as well.

Luckily stories re-enact

in little sleepless nights

through visions

of what may never be again

but always live in fond-ness:

I was truly treasured

in whole-ness by you.

Intricate Exposure

 

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I remember

you and me

tangled in those sheets,

dismantling each others’

armors and weapons

built through a lifetime

of heart break.

Your hands grabbed

the walls of my subconscious,

fondling the lining of emotions.

And in an instance

you found

all of my essence

swimming in the blue

of the duvet cover

exposed to each particle

of your soul

without the fabric

of skin

to hide beneath

every secret of our pasts.

The sun stood at guard

while the warmth

of embraces

evoked the final gasps

exhaled from true love’s

final cry

and leaving

shadows on a bed

we will never visit again.

A Date

I would like to make a date

to kiss you,

to inhale your smile,

and swallow your laughter.

I want an invitation

to travel from your head

down to your feet

in some utter delight

using you as

the vehicle

to come and go.

 

I wish for a rendezvous

to whisper

in the darkness

and the light

in those moments

when I stare into your eyes

as they flutter to my knowing.

 

I want a date to give

and take

and be again

in the euphoria

of our union

because true love stories

never end.

Elysium

You ask how I feel

whenever I reach that point

of loosing myself,

forgetting who I am,

in some sort of amnesia

traveling some place far away.

 

I cannot answer.

There are few words

that can paint the landscape

when I go on this journey

through an expanse tour of spirit.

 

In a moment of rapture

I find the path back home

picking up the bread crumbs

I left for my return

but when I get there,

just as I open up the door

to heaven,

I get pulled right back to you.

 

Euphoria is like that…

some blissful moment in time

of forgetting impatience,

tolerating mistakes,

and hungering for peace

in a few seconds

when the heart and mind

find each other in

a balanced equality

embraced by mysticism.

 

Let me come and go

in those moments

of yes and no,

of highs and lows,

and let me find

my return home

without the questions,

or the interrogations,

or the suggestions…

 

let me find myself

within myself

and let me embrace

the freedom of my soul.

Confessions of a Chocoholic

chocolate

Pleasure is underrated. I have a pretty good life. I live in the most spectacular place of the Appalachians. We own a wonderful retreat center. We get to indulge in nature as much as we can. But sometimes, we try deeply to avoid simple pleasure due to an unjust sense of responsibility. I love watching children dive into their desires. They can get into a piece of chocolate cake with such immense guiltless pleasure and a part of me envies that relentless behavior. When did we forget to indulge as adults? When was the last time that the diet went out the door, play took over, and food once again became an aphrodisiac. Chocolate: scrumptious, devouring, yummilicious…ahhhhhh! Is there anything more enticing and primitive as the tongue unraveling a great piece of excess cocoa, twirling in pure ecstasy begging for more?

Yesterday my best friend and I took a short drive up the Blue Ridge Parkway. It started out beautiful but the weather soon turn into fog and rain. We turned around with coolness impregnated on our skin from the open convertible. She said she wanted chocolate. She had been watching the movie Chocolat  for a few nights. After some silence and a subconscious suggestion (I am so easily influenced that it is sickening at times) I answered, “Let’s go get chocolate in downtown Asheville. Let’s go to the French Broad Chocolate Lounge.” Like two insane hungry Thelma and Louise we found ourselves inside the cafe.

We ordered two hot chocolates with lavender and honey. We shared a carrot cake for breakfast and a chocolate cake called Quitessential for lunch all in one sitting. The experience was exquisite and sublime. I remember a line from the movie Chocolat, “I could do with a bit more excess. From now on I’m going to be immoderate—and volatile—I shall enjoy loud music and lurid poetry. I shall be rampant.” I might add I shall be free to do whatever I please while eating guiltless amount of real chocolate…!

Each mouthful was a chattering divulging ecstatic experience. The explosion of bitterness, softness, and sweetness all in one mouthful was overwhelming. I sat in front of my friend, fork dancing in the air, eyes shut as if conducting an orchestra mesmerized by the essences of all the senses combined with the drink. If I was to pick a moment to die…well that would have been the perfect exit to my life. That would have said something valid about love and chocolate. It was that divine. All their desserts are organic and one munches with the belief that it’s good for you because it is. How can something that Godly be anything but divine!

What can we celebrate in life if not the simple taste of living to the fullest, through food, drinking, loving and sharing? From the moment we embark in this journey we are surrounded by excess and limit ourselves on a daily basis. Walking into that lounge, the smell of confection, sugarplum, frosting, lavender, and childhood memories recollect of a chubby kid on her tip toes pointing to the glass of bonbons allows anyone in a moment to fall in love with chocolate all over again. Doesn’t chocolate fix just about anything? As Charles M. Schulz says, “All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.”

Once we were done I walked out intoxicated. I was in such a sugar high that I had to stop and compose myself laughing at the gratification of the moment. I sat in the car in divine light telling myself that the dessert was the best pleasure I had experience in a long time. My friend, laughing in her own mystical moment of extraction, rejoiced in the decision of breakfast and lunch in one sitting. Everything looked sweeter and joyful on the way home. Our hearts and tummies were full of mischievous actions like children who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Your hand and your mouth agreed many years ago that, as far as chocolate is concerned, there is no need to involve your brain.”~ Dave Barry

If you are ever in Asheville I urge you to visit the French Broad Chocolate Lounge on Lexington. Indulge for a few moments. You won’t regret it. https://frenchbroadchocolates.com

Arrangement of my BEing

I have become,

and will continue,

as a composition

of unfinished thoughts.

Each one luring me

into the unknown

and the ecstasy

in loving the Oneness

of all that is

and is not part

of the old me

I was programmed to believe.

I am plummeting

through the cracks,

edges, and loopholes

of a soul connecting

to the Greatness

without the distractions of paradigms

that cannot fit at this time.

How long is too long?

Why didn’t I see this

a thousand years ago

with all the questions

and answers that I’ve acquired?

But, this composition

is unfinished and delicate

and beautiful

because there is

no expectation of truth

as it lies there smiling

waiting to just BE.

Quiet Conversation

You are never far

from my extremities.

On our bed

limbs journey towards you,

toes rubbing against

the warmth of your legs

nudging at flesh,

kneading through muscles,

digging for the promise

of magnetism.

Hands stretch

for assurance in

bridging the distance

between here and there.

You allow for it,

enticed by the hunger

of a give-and-take affection

as we silently converse.

Whenever I get lost

in a book or movie

I find your fingers

studiously reaching,

magically appearing

under mountains of blankets

for more love

between the quietude

that defines the comfort of us.

And in one moment

you take my hand

gently placing

that last kiss of night

on the palm of my skin

to remind me

of the things

I don’t have to say.

The Excavation

Let me be the dent that
sits in the valley
so you can scoop all around me
the sheltering grounds
to protect me
in this world.

Allow me to be the appetizer
that you scoop up
to your soul
each day,
each night,
for the rest of this life.
Permit me to be a voyager
who travels in your journey
until we can be completely
aligned with the universe…
until you can find the way
to scoop me up
and make me one.

Cradled by the Mysterious

infinite wisdom

In silence

and contemplation

I feel the universe nestling me

back into a womb state

where I am completely safe,

warm and secure.

Euphoria is reached

surrendering to the unknown

in ecstasy and in enstasy

together with the mysterious.

The union of body and spirit

is not a fairy tale.

It’s not beyond belief,

or a fictitious phenomenon.

It exists.  It is attainable

within the self.

I am cradled by God,

as love wraps beyond me

merging with light

and recognizing a return home

to spiritual embodiment

of all creation.

To all that I am.

To all that we are.

To HIM.

 

Into a Dream

lovers

You reached into a dream,

licking me back to

the place I would know was real

where I could determine

if I wanted to wake

or continue the unconsciousness.

I laid there

in between the realms

trying to gather

the sensation

of lips on mine,

fingers knotted in my hair,

legs pressed into pretzels,

and the weight of you

entering the place of oblivion.

Never opening my eyes,

I let my fingertips guide you

while you left crumbs

tracing the path

back,

further,

distantly

into the unknown….