Seeds on a Journey
(To Joseph)

I
With you, my Love, time becomes irrelevant, and life acquires, in turn, the importance of a watercourse – that paradoxical watercourse which you described yourself, as one that surges the past and flows the future – by ourselves held, released, imbibed and swallowed, and also, sailed upon – once again, just as you defined it, on a vessel, which is the present. And I think, my Love, that we are ourselves, you and I, that stream and that boat, but we are also the plunge into that water, which we cruise between the source and the estuary, at times flowing with the current, at times swimming against it, and then, at times, simply floating – which may occur, alternately, with the assurance of those who remain afloat and the disorientation of those who know they are adrift.

II
Sitting before each other, we are also particles of energy that merge in forms, sometimes yours, sometimes mine, sometimes ours. Then, you are the soul of my skin, and I’m the blood in the veins of your soul, and we are, both, one single breath within the space and instant of lips that touch. You utter the words of my silence, which entones the modulations of your own silence in echoes of words. You capture the essence of light within my shadows, and they – my shadows – dance the essence in diffusion of your light. Then, I project your shadows upon my glow, and you reinvent my ambiguity in the silhouette of your lucidity. And all this, this miracle, this magic… or probably nothing more than this natural, primeval inherence of being, simultaneously, contrast and complement… just because our fingertips touch, or not even that… but because we merely brush that dispersal of lines bounding horizons between sky and earth or sea, in the total closeness of the distance between your eyes and mine. “We rip the seam of sky…”

III
A flower in a field of flowers. I don’t know, my Love. Maybe the flower, sometimes, and then maybe the field, possibly the earth and the seed hoping for the rain and open to the sun, to become a fruit tree. And so often, the fruit fallen to the ground, and always, the seed again. Open to the rain and hoping for the sun.

IV
“Seed in darkness grows,
then it bursts into the light
~Gasping for the sun.”

You, also, the seed. A seed of fire, erupting earth from the depths of water – the whole earth and all the forests, or simply a tree or merely a flower, blooming from the tree to become a fruit. But always, and again, “gasping for the sun”… eager, impatient, avid for air and for light. Always, and again, as a seed that sprouts for the first time. And… yes, my Love. With you, from you, within you, everything sprouts, utterly, for the first time… even the fruits harvested and savoured through many seasons. Springs do sprout from all your Falls, and you are, therefore, seed of sun within each and every droplet of rain – or spark, which has, simultaneously, ejaculated the whole earth into the womb of the sea and yet delivered it, in a scream of light that soared beyond the boundaries of the whole air. Universes beyond the visible… yes, in you, and you the seed itself of their infinity, my Love.

V
It is Light, indeed. It is Life, no doubt. And above all, it is Love. And it is Dream, on a journey of Seeds that seek, discover, plant, gather, wander, arrive, again depart. Seeds which expand and are, in all, Elements of a Whole… that always sprouts, really, for the first time. I love you, Joseph, and all that which of you sprouts within my journey, and I love all that which of me sprouts, within the journey of your seeds.


© 2005 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*® Authors & Creations

(Italicized: excerpts of poems by Joseph*)