A love poem…
One of the earliest things I’ve ever written — somehow it still clings…
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Spinning back down the years; almost as if it were somebody else…
cross the road gladiolas grew
a sizable patch
every imagined color
Friendships materializing late in life have a special and different color to them. They will not be understood in this lifetime, but will spew unpredictable fruits and blossoms in times to come.
The 3rd in a series venturing beyond the veil of the obvious. Read this for more orientation info about the series. I almost feel a need to apologize since the length of this piece is over 5000 words, but only almost. Within this entire series (A-i-t-s) I try consciously to build as vivid a context as possible, according to my memory, within which the events in question unfurl. If I lose some people enroute, that is something I can live with. It is important to me to treat these things comprehensively and lovingly.
“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find it with another.” – Thomas Merton
I think on biographies often of late. Not that I read them much, just occasionally. I’m more attracted to imagining the life maps of people I’ve crossed paths with, sometimes in major encounters but just as likely in subtle, ephemeral ways, like when a billiard ball kisses another in passing on a pool table. As experience grows, so does the depth of meaning one becomes able to infer from these encounters. It was such an imagination which caused to me look up an old high school teacher not long ago…
when i was little, even tiny
then my loving was my looking
and when i knew something new
that was something like love too
but with time I saw that “I” saw
that I was he who sees his seeing
so now my love’s become hard work
that I am grateful for its being
[ Image : I somehow have misplaced which corner of the web where I located this wonderful watercolor… if you recognize it, please help me with it’s attribution, and I’ll ‘like’ you in perpetuity. ]
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