"Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together;
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."
---Kahil Gabran ( from "The Prophet" )
When you look at her and wonder
There are parts you cannot see
Like the half of her that's missing
For the whole that's not to be
You see a woman shining
Feet planted in the ground
What you can't see is the sorrow
Or just where it once was found
Her appearance is astounding
For never would you guess
That this soul grieves no longer
And her insides aren't a mess
Nor a jumble...for this horseman
He came and took her soul
Left a gypsy spirit breathless
Took a part and left a whole
For his gift to her...his answer
His love was here and gone
Now the whole of her is seeking
The heart he took and won.
Let him go with freedom's spirit
For he left her with a glow
Took a heart that wasn't beating
Left a seed with which to sow
Many memories in the making
And a promise to return
To the part of her that's missing
For the soul still here that yearns
Today is worth the waiting
The future is a guess
As the soul of one so empty
Is a part of him... at best.
And the love of these two spirits
Beat forever a new whole
And the part that wasn't total
Is a story to be told.
I loved the intricacies of this one, as we struggle with love in passing but that cannot be complete at the time we seldom completely give up our hopes on that type of love.
Your gorgeous poetry leaves it's beautiful markings on my soul, Susan, so that whenever I read its lines again, the original artwork is reawakened and recoloured to decorate my heart and mind afresh. How could I forget this one?? Speaks into the very castle ramparts of many a lonely, ivory-towered princess as she continues to grow her hair in wait of the one for whom she knows she will let it down? The return of the soul-mate, once met, never forgotten. The seed that will bear the fruit that endures for eternity in its right and proper season. Outstanding rhythm and metre. One of your many bests, I think. Love, Kate xx
The waiting is the killer, the waiting is a blessing, the waiting is only viable as the heart it waits for; waiting can become a career, waiting is sublime and designed to humble, waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting . . . Loved the poem, but felt the grief, hope I didn't step on anything sacred here . . .
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
Eight e-books regarding Pathological Narcissism, relationships with abusive
narcissists and psychopaths, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
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Love Tinka
Love & Light always and in all ways,
Joseph*
walt
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Ron
well done...
John
Fee