Category: Secret Religion

-I’d never leave your side if I could help it. Some would call it the darkness of my soul, the weakness in me and its binding force. Perhaps. Just to hold you, or be in your presence. The warmth that comes from you, like no other. And every time our worlds collide, I have a harder time letting go. The words come quickly in your asking, “I understand, I understand,” and then you go. Leaving me, departing from me; I watch you go. The smile on my face collapses and my breath is labored. It’s a frightening place, to need […]

– I’m growing used to your voice, the soft caress that puts me at ease. Your quiet chuckle, and the grin that soothes me in my mind. The sensing of you, somehow, intrinsically connected, yet apart. The thoughts trickle, into the space of consciousness throughout my day, and I reawaken you, in me. Relive the gentle moments, each touch, each kiss. With you, because of you, the words are given an echo. I hear them again and I hear them clearly, and I start to understand the meaning, what was said that wasn’t said. “When we were first married, and […]

-My words fall, weak, the wailing of some injured kindred, the self, uncovered, the desolate moments of the essence, of the spirit, struggling against, the barbs of consciousness and awareness. Meaning transcends essence, but essence is meaning. Words create worlds, the constant striving for a better world. Consciousness laces and undoes.

-“What is it like to believe?” she asks. “To believe,” he says- His brown eyes glazed over, lost in the impossible dream. “To see clearly,” he smiles, her eyes inextricably fixed on his.

-I search for you behind my eyes, there is a glimmer, though they are closed. My hands remain a vehicle of emptiness. I’d have no better luck if you took them, tying them behind me, locked me in a dark room and asked me to find the blue corner, the one you painted over long ago. My arms continue to wail in the vacant space of you. I fall prey to the fallacy, with so much to lose, I’ve lost so much. I keep waiting for the sun to never rise and the moon to never set, and maybe find […]

-I feel the swelling in my heart. There is something I’ve never had, or even sadder, maybe forgot. And I’ll sit there, the smoke spiraling into clouds around me. Feel her sacred energy. It’s energy, nothing more. It may be funny, that in my thoughts of her, there is no bare skin rubbing against bare skin. That is, not the dream I’ve had. There is an image: a clouded white background and her hair in her face. High contrast. Maybe it is something in the eyes. Something there. Energy. I don’t see the soul I want to know, in her, […]

-Her eyes, sullen, as they fall on him, his expression vacant, his lips still, not quivering, like hers, when he told her he spent the night with Clarissa; it was at that moment her lip began to quiver, as her mind raced back to that night, to her sitting in the dark, in their apartment, alone, and she suffered with those words, night after night, living the solitude of two nights, the present and that night, alone in the darkness, in a bed made for two, and where was he as her heart erupted, dampening the pillows in a flood […]

-In the dim pale morning, the light finds it way to his window and weaves itself past the blinds, as the alarm goes off; music enters. He stumbles out of bed, eyes shut, and in the stumbling stubs his toe but without pain and so, unaware. He dances in the darkness of the room, with no one else around and still ever afraid to dance alone.

-Sometimes they return, the indelible traces of where you’ve been, the footprints of existence and experience following you, only one step behind. You close your eyes, forge on forward, but you know they’re there. They dance at family gatherings, as if they’re more at home than you. Reminding you of the peace and of the suffering that have woven of time and space the presence of your essence, one manifestation after the present. And even as they fade out of memory, they remain the lingering sensation that life is more than what you see when you’re awake and greater than […]

-Smoke billows from my lungs… The 405 at midday, from 6 to 7, and through the night; headlamps weaving their way through, fading in the cavernous passage. …I stand watching… Mobile entertainment centers on four wheels, weaving through, what was there, is there, and will be no more. Ravaged, for the need to live by want, desire to have more than we have. …the cigarette end burns in my hand, I let it fall… Uproot nature and supplant it with a new landscape of concrete, plaster and tar. The neighborhood always dreamt of, A hundred miles away, at the other […]