poetry
© 1998 UrielsPoet@aol.com
Crush Obsession L.A. rain
Dearest,
I sit and wonder about you, occasionally perusing your sight, just thinking of words you've spoken... I enjoy the intimacy of the IM box with you, I like it when you are here ... when I can hold your hand.
I read 'the summer of two tears' tonight... I'm utterly entwined within these images of you, the very essence of you. I noticed that in that 'thought of the day' you mentioned no wish for yourself when you addressed your words to God, nothing for you, only those around you ... my great-grandmother always told me the grand hope of God is that one must have compassion for others ... he who puts those he cares for before him has the seat upon the cloud.
I come here often, signing on, hoping to find you here when suddenly it comes to mind that you're a ghost now, you're nowhere to be found... "will I get an email? an IM perhaps??? will Laura lend me a few words, will my fallen poet rest upon my touch??" Ahh, but they're foolish thoughts ... what do I expect to say, what shall I do, when you show up, if you do? "So....
I don't know what it is I feel, maybe a crush, maybe an obsession, maybe the insatiable desire to comprehend you ... to feel the gentle brushing of your words lick across my eyes, my flesh, my spirit. Perhaps, who knows, it is Love ... the sprouting infant of that form from the crevices of Care, from the burrows of compassion ... perhaps the seed seeking sustenance ... waiting for this "fortune's fool" to bloom, to taste the fruit, to peel and fathom the sweet kernel of the babe. Maybe I just think too much ... mad with this brush, splashing vibrant hues unto the close knit, colors that tomorrow will be freed from the cloister of desire with the morning dew... But it's more than just desire... I see it in the stars, in dreams, in the rare L.A. rain.
I want to see you, I want to taste you. I don't mean this sexually... I mean I want to pierce that shell you use for shelter, feel the juices of that fruit, savor the sweet deliciousness, the ambrosia, the balmy sight of your smile, of the core of Reason... Let me know what it is you think ... let me feel you... AAahhhhh! to hear you speak!!! Ohh, dear God, to drink of your sweet words, the wine, to taste the sweet flesh of thoughts! I want to cast away that fear you have (that which you seem to always hold up to the light for me)... I wish we could speak again... Ohh, I wish you were here now... I have so much on my mind, I could write forever... I want you to know everything, everything... I wish Distance was not so cruel, and Time, not the assassin that She is ... did I ever share with you my favorite quote, I think I did ... it's Nietzsche:
He who will one day have much to proclaim, must first remain immersed within himself. He who will kindle the thunder one day, must for a long time --be a cloud.
Come to me soon....
-forever
-your
my masked sphinx
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