The living see through sepia-toned glass. Only a few are blessed with the sparkling, blindingly clear sight that allows them to see the mirage of patterns that swirl through the air.
I hope you are.
-not, “I hope you are one of them.” But simply, I hope you ARE, for if you understand, if you are truly aware of BEING, you can appreciate the patterns that entwine themselves around each movement in time, each syllable that falls from your lips.
I don’t care whether you see the patterns or merely possess knowledge of them, because it’s what you DO with that knowledge that entrances me.
let yourself go, lose yourself in the slipstream of consciousness to float away into the star crossed pattern that has woven itself into symphonies and sonnets.
Get lost in the stark, sharp landscape that is hidden within the beat of a drum and a guitar, whether it’s in your room alone or drunk in a crowded bar, get lost.
When the shadowed, black tendrils of uncertainty have trapped you in a corner, call for me and I will gladly throw myself in with you, facing the monsters together, creating a pattern of light and love all our own.
Hold on fast to the burning, blazing, vibrating streaks that pierce your heart when you fall in love for the first time. The love that engulfs you and catches you by surprise. The out of body experience that both splits your heart in pieces and gives you strength beyond reason.
When the soft and warm hues of home wrap themselves around you, tuck that scrap into your back pocket, to pull out on a rainy day when you find yourself cold and alone.
Promise me to never let go of the deep vividness of passion slip through your fingers- the flash of red in my shirt that night, the burning yellow from the candle we lit when the power went out, the cold shine of the ice on the power lines outside, keep them blazing for the world to see to let them know you’re mine.
And if I should go and another takes my place, let that palate fade with time, muted to the blue of the dress I was wearing when we first met, the grey flecks in your eyes, the pale first green of spring when you first held my hand, the soft pink you make appear on my cheeks when you smile at me…
The swirls and whirls of love, the gouges and gashes of loss, the cutting bricks of betrayal and revenge, the budding rays of life & quiet lines of death surrounding us, filling us each day, live by them.
I know you said you weren’t good with words, but I don’t care.
Trace the rays across my face with your eyes, follow the twits and turns of life with your fingertips onto skin, make me your canvas, paint on me what you will, and I will help change it, mold it into something more unique than either of us, for that’s what life is- take what you get, create and build, love and live, find that missing piece, your muse and partner, best friend and confidant, lover and bodyguard.
Find them, know them, and weave their pattern together with your own.