Universal language

What is the universal language? What is it that we all understand? What is that spark, like the flash between neurons, that ignites between all people regardless of color, creed, race, nationality, sexuality? Heck, even my dog (or perhaps especially my dog) understands it. But it is impossible to define with words alone. Love. Love that heals, love that feeds, love that transcends our surface differences. Love continues beyond reason, beyond practicality, beyond the future we can see with our own eyes or comprehend with our minds. Love exists in the present, past and future simultaneously. For love, there is no divide between past and future there is only one unbroken now. Love can be passed from one person to another from inches away, from miles away, from worlds away. Love is perhaps best experienced though from within another’s embrace. Love can move mountains and build bridges.

Love is, when all else is stripped away, the bare bone of everything.

So why, then, is it so hard to trust? Is it because there are so many things masquerading as love that sting like a viper and so we learn to distrust love, that is our very soul? Is it because there is in fact a great stinking evil in the world that works hard to convince us that love is weak and impractical, that money and influence and power the only real safety? Is it that we have all at some point loved unreservedly and had that love rejected, stolen, squashed?

Why is it that even so we keep pointing ourselves, like a compass to North, in the direction we think love is waiting for us?

The Very Rough Draft

hornets nest

What shall I write?

I have not blogged in a while.

I’ll start a post, I’ll kvetch in style.

I can’t think of a topic, but I know if I start,

If I just keep on typing, soon it will be art!

Half a day later, I’m sitting in bed, cruising on Facebook, to see what friends said.

Oh no! Oh crap! Can it be true? I published that draft? And tweeted it too?

When did that happen? What did I do? When I thought I was saving….I sent it on through!

Quick! Hit delete! I wonder who read

that part of a post that I’d rather not send.

What to do now, should I try and complete it, update the post the way I really mean it?

Should I just ignore it, and hope for the best? Hide my embarrassment, try not to get stressed?

Or just write a poem to remind all of you

That when you are blogging, before you are through

Be Extra Careful to save but not publish

those very rough drafts that are pretty much rubbish.

On Finally Organizing my Photo Box….

Or, rescuing my life from the Black Abyss

I’m having half-forgotten ages gone by spinning thru my head
It is close to midnight and I just realized
why it is a bad idea
to let my boss buy starbuck’s coffee at 3:30 in the afternoon
Even if it does show I’m not lazy, just fighting off afternoon tedium
I am 39 will help me god live to 40

I have thin fit 20’s
wise enough 30’s
and enough grey hair
that they stopped carding me years ago

A garden in time past
impossible, at last
flowers of another era make me smile
at my son and his future to be

insomnia

intimacy painting by laura lencioni acrylic on canvas, 36″ x 40″

waking up in the middle
waking up in the middle of the
wake up in the middle of the night

have you ever built a life
only to have it evaporate from underneath your fingertips…

I want to crumble in your arms tonight,
and in your love
to give up the fight

have you ever built a life
only to have it evaporate from underneath your fingertips…

can’t say if its wrong or right
I keep waking up in the middle of the night

have you ever built a life
and have it evaporate from underneath your fingertips…

and the echo of our love survives
whispers to a future that seems bright

I can’t say if it is wrong or right
I just keep waking up in the middle of the night