in search of lost time.

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom…

My heart born naked was swaddled in lullabies. Later alone it wore poems for clothes. Like a shirt I carried on my back the poetry I had read. So I lived for half a century until wordlessly we met. From my shirt on the back of the chair I learn tonight how many years of learning by heart I waited for you.

They couldn’t find the missing plane & you couldn’t find your way out of the dark. Maybe we lose things because we fear what happens when we find them. The greatest thing I did today was open my eyes and keep them open.  I wrote to you in dandelion stems. Giving you a living thing to make you feel more alive. How we live 
 like we’d rather be dancing. How we dance like we’d rather be touching. You couldn’t feel it. I wanted to feel it; I felt it. The plane was found in pieces 
at the bottom of the ocean. 
I crawled into the dark with you
 and realized you had become it.