All is well

Frustration has gotten the best of me
I rest my head
On this little couch
In my little home
Close my eyes
Blurred with tears
Weary from failures
Too many times seen

I am exhausted
Sleep crawls over me
Emotions
Like a hard rain
Fall on me
Where dreams of you
Drift out from the cracks in my soul
Left open
For you to seep in
Like a healing mist

You fill the voids
The empty places
Fill me with hope
Desire
Passion
Love

I wake hard
Touching myself
With apprehension
Fear that I have been alone too long
Fear I will fail
Overreact
Fear of the known
The unknown
Fear of my Self
Fear of fear

Then a calm
Like a blanket
Falls on me
As I feel you here with me
I let go
Let you in
I release fear
Embrace love
Breathe you in

My mind fills with thoughts of you
In my arms
My bed
My home
My life
My heart
My soul

I see what is
What can be
If we let it
It is good
And all is well

 

 

 

 

Image: “The Sourse of Inspiration” by Artem Chebokha

Meet me there

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.

-Rumi

 

Meet me there, Love,
and We,
filled with a touch,
a kiss,
a word,
will be made One
in heart and soul
and carry that fullness
into the world
and it will be made better
by simply being
Us.

 

 

Image by J.M.Greff

I am amazed

dream.state.artur.weber

 

I am amazed
Breathless
Speechless
My heart softens
and opens
at the thought of you
My soul reaches out
and finds you there
waiting
You are so much more
than I ever imagined
More than I thought
I deserve
You are the dream
I never dared dream
The light
I have always seen
Leading me ever
forward to you
You are the hand
that touches
those places inside
those places
kept hidden from others
The heart
I desire
The soul
I require
You are everything
You are My Love

 

 

Image: “Dream State” by Artur Weber

This morning

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I lay in bed this morning
and tried to imagine you there.
Would you be facing me?
Would I feel your breath on me?
Do you lay on your back?
Your belly?
Or would your back be to me?
What sounds would you be making?
Soft mewls like a kitten?
Loud and long?
Silent shallow breath?
If I whispered to you
would you respond?
Would you speak the words
I long to hear?
Would my name be on your lips?
Could I kiss those lips
to coax those words?
Could I kiss your neck
your back
your breasts
your belly
without waking you?
How many kisses would it take before you did?
If I reached out to touch you
how far could I explore?
How deep?
Would you respond to my touch?
If I pressed my growing hardness against you
would you press back?
Would you spread your legs just a little
as you slept?
Would you wake with a smile?
Invite me in?
Or would you pull away?

I will have those answers soon.
I will wake in the morning
hard with dreams of you.
Your name on my lips.
Your warmth
and your scent
mixed with mine.
The taste of you in my mouth.
Instead of this meager imagination
that drives my hand
to reach out to emptiness
as if you were there
and touches
only myself
I will feel you next to me
under me
driving my passion
deep inside
and we will know.

 

 

 

In this field of dreams

 

IMG_5946
Though I walk alone in this golden field I feel you occupy the spaces I have created for you in my heart. I reach out to you with my soul and find you waiting. Always there. Always ready.

As the sun rises I see you revealed in front of me, a play of light on the morning mist transformed by the magic of this day and this place into you. There and not there. A welcome vision that begs me “follow.”

You dance playfully ahead of me, leading me through this field of gold that sways in the light breeze as if to an unheard song. It is the song of the Universe. A song in which we play a line of perfect harmony.

You wear sandles to protect your feet as you skip and run ahead of me but you are dressed as you were before we made love last night. Panties that cling to your beckoning moisture. A sleeveless top that exposes your soft belly that invites my kisses and celebrates the curve of your soft breasts. You are more beautiful than the rising sun, more alluring than a cool spring on a hot day, more graceful than the birds that sing your name, more inspiring than this field of dreams I follow you through.

You turn your head to me and smile or hop backwards as you laugh and call out to me then dance ahead again as you sing songs with outrageous lyrics and laugh with innocence at the filthy words that conjure sensual delight. You are drunk on passion. Filled with an enticing energy that can not be ignored. Why would even consider ignoring you? Never!

You are a nymph sent by the goddess intent on seducing me with song and dance. You are goddess possessed. You are playful sprite. Your laughter is a siren call that I am bound by.

But in this mystic island caught outside time, there are no shores to crash upon. No hidden pond to drown in. No tricks of delight.

Here I become satyr to your nymph as I follow you. I long to take you here, now and forever in this sacred place. Though there is no mythical altar to offer my devotion I worship upon the altar of your heart which I carry always with me and where a blazing fire always rages.

You reach the highest point then slow, your song now turned to a sweet lull, a hum, you turn to me, head lowered with a knowing smile, lips parting, eyes locked on mine, arms raised slightly from your sides, palms facing me, fingers spread, welcoming my tender embrace as I step into you, pull you close, and whisper the words, “Soon, My Love.”

I stand there for an eternity. Not wanting to leave this place. Wanting only to feel your skin against mine, our lips brushing, hands touching and tracing each other, hearts beating as one, souls joined, but the morning grows late.

I open my eyes and the field, though just a field, is now something more. Something truly magic. Though you were never here your presence remains. I can feel the warmth of you even now and hear those words you said as I watched you fade away as if they were a spell, “Yes, Darling. Soon.”

 

 

 

Image by J.M.Greff

Speechless

IMG_5881

I am speechless
Not without words
They come too fast
Too many
To capture more than a few
I catch but snippets
Like lines from long forgotten songs
Begging to be sung again
Though they are songs I’ve never sung
Belonging to a life I’ve never led

“I long to feel the dance of our souls
To hear the mixing of our song…”
“… raised to heights
Of intense delights ..,”
“My lips pressed to yours
Our tongues touch and taste and tease …”
“… until infinity passes and we begin again…”

They come in flashes
Strobes of insight
Waves of passion
A flood of desire
that drowns out the words with its roar
and leaves me speechless in its wake

 

 

Image: from the Basal Roman Font Digitizations Project by the P22 Type Foundry

 

 

Why I write love letters to myself

message-in-a-bottle

 

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.“
– Buddha

I love someone. Deeply. With all that I am and all that I will ever be.

I do not know this person. I have never met her. I have no idea what she looks like or how she speaks or walks or where she works or what her favorite color is, but I love her. Deeply.

I sometimes write her letters to express the love and passion and desire that I have for her.

I do this for several reasons;

  1. It helps me to learn how to love her better:
    Writing allows me the opportunity to “review” my intentions. I can look over what I’ve written and see both my strengths and weaknesses.
  2. It helps clarify those things I need to do for myself:
    In reviewing them I see, in black and white, not only those things that I need to do for her, but, since our partners serve as mirrors for ourselves, those things that I should be doing for myself in order to be more prepared to love her unconditionally by loving myself first.
  3. Because the desire to “be loved” is as important as the desire “to love”:
    Desire, though detrimental to living, is a requirement of love. It is only through embracing my desire “for love” that I learn “to love” completely and unconditionally.
  4. Because passion requires an outlet or it will whither and die:
    Passion like any other emotion, is not just something we feel, it is something we express. In writing these letters I learn how to more fully express my passion and that passion, one of intimate love, carries into everything I do.
  5. How I love the person I am with, love being an action and not a feeling, affects all of my relationships from friends to family to the cashier at the coffee shop.

We have all been around people who exude that glow of fresh love. We have all basked in the heat of their passion. Been lifted by the energy of their desire. We have all basked in it.

I love that feeling and I want others to feel it. To benefit from it. I want people to smile without knowing why they are smiling when I am near.

Does it make me a little insane that I want to feel this way even though I am alone? Maybe.

One thing we can all agree on is that love, at least according to my interpretation of mental illness as defined by the Canadian Mental Health Association  as those things “…that affect the way we think about ourselves, relate to others, and interact with the world around us”, is madness.

I accept said madness because it is my hope that in writing these letters, like messages in bottles, to my unknown beloved that she will hear my call, and that in preparing myself I will be ready when she arrives.

 

 


 

Note: I decided against submitting this article for publication several months ago because, honestly, I don’t believe I’m qualified to write self-help articles, especially when they focus on the unusual sort of help I offer myself, but mostly because I lost faith that “she” would ever hear my call. I post it now because it turns out she may have been listening for me all along.