in all my lives
[imagine: a winding, flagstoned path,
leading away over grassy, rolling hills, forever]
i recall meeting just one such as you.
i am certain I shall not meet another.
in that place
we were made of magic, and little else;
and the universe was made of us;
and time was a toy we played with.
do you also remember this?
time now rules us.
funny – to be ruled by a toy.
here in toyland, in this space, said to be infinite,
[ha! the infinity of this space is nothing!]
you and I meet, ever and anon, on these planes of worded meanings,
ever keeping an inner eye on the other.
[the outer eyes can be deceived]
and so, we orbit, never resting,
for should we rest,
the whole world would become still and silent,
and we might forget to be ruled by our toys
we would drop the façade of time;
the false lessons and transgressions of much experience would
simply cease to be.
and there would be no need even to say, “oh, it’s you!”,
because we would remember
that we already know.
such a silly thing to remember,
for to remember a thing, one must have forgotten it.
and how can one forget to know?
Los Angeles, 14 March, 2013
Yes, I know you hid your eyes,
Yet saw, from your dream, when you heard that call.
And mere human emotions
Can’t thwart this spukhafte Fernwirkung.
To take your world,
And lose yourself…
My hands were not made to accept this gift.
But to make a world,
And find ourselves therein;
To take, each with our hands,
The other’s life, and not death;
It is this for which they were made.
I understand the coveted hunger;
The undead swearing of fealty.
My sword does not get drawn in fury.
Your complete surrender is not what I desire.
And I cannot apologize
And hoped-for rendezvous,
For they are also mine.
But not everything
Has been long-since carved,
Preserved now only in weathered stone.
Some things do yet remain alive, within tears.
And some things should be reached for again.
Los Angeles, 12 March, 2013