Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The Winter Sun

You arrived as light, drawn together by magnets placed here by distant stars.

You bloom late at night, at the same time as me or seconds before and after, away from the strange low eyes of the winter sun.

You will become the poetry that kills my ideas. Because ideas can be questioned. And you gave all your answers years ago.


Whatever said...

The winters sun often feels stronger through the window, but if you want to absorb the goodness you have to bare your flesh to it's beauty.
Love this xo

Anonymous said...

Glad to find this site. Beautiful words and photography.

Anonymous said...

The sun does not bloom at night.

Dutch said...

Jy is wonderlik.

Anonymous said...

What a lovely way to start the morning. Thanks for the beautiful imagery (both in words and photo), Iain and John.

Anonymous said...

When we do bloom together, it's something beautiful, but so rare. We grow together for a few weeks at best before it all gets uprooted again.
I haven't changed, since the day you met me some six-odd years ago. You will not be the one who changes a single answer, unless you show me that you can change too..

Anonymous said...

I pledged loyal, loving patronage and attentiveness long ago. My promise remains today; I know this, and I'm grateful still for such measures of commitment. Today I drove and drove over rolling country hills. I passed my old neighborhood and it occurred to me that more than five years has passed since I first learned that I could barely wait to hear your voice, for I was terribly drawn to it and "it's" wise messages to the outer world at large.

And that is not what I thought I would have to say. The three latest posts here have become blended and puréed in my mind since I first read them. I've had time to mull over the combination of words. Love from the shadowlands. Where I continue to dwell in wonderment.

I wondered if I have a character flaw so deeply rooted that it is hidden from the view of my own psyche. I wanted to say something about how the thoughtful suspense of you is slowly killing me, or something along those lines. But we both know that would be a lie. I delight in it. I think we both do. Wink wink. Yep, yep, yep yep... The initial "point" in making what matters, if I recall correctly. And I do. I remember well and delight in the abundance of cerebral highs that we have shared together, and so it hurts when it seems as if the power of our connection is slowly being erased. (Maybe we don't want to be found.)

Sometimes blooms die to make room for newer, even brighter ones. That's my hope. I welcome the hope of a return of sunshine. Beautiful blooms ought to go on display for all. Patience, me. Reassurance from me... to you.

I hope the answer will be a new one someday. I hope it will be "I do know you. I've known you always too and I love you back." Only because I love you. <3