ocean view

I have dreams, and honestly I’m not always who I want to be in my dreams. what is beneath the surface? what is left of me? and what pray tell has been left of you? all those pieces of you, free floating through my skin. the sweetest memories, and kitchen sink melodies, free floating, shifting like sand, falling freely through my hands. all the kisses left behind. what have I become?

I want to be a mountain. so large that you cannot forget. so vast that you stop to take the time to travel my walkways and streams. all of me an ecos tied to the place behind your eyes, furry with moss. over grown, beyond denying. what is the purpose of denial, when my bark has grown so dense? why continue a descent, with our arms outstretched over head? why sink when here we have wings? I know it was you that believed first. all the years on that mountain.

and what have I learned about the thoughts and the sealed, blank, empty envelopes? I visit here for scraps. I come here to remember. dreams like a dive underwater. I close my eyes and retreat to a humanistic view. it is not a dream that sparks the healing relationship. it is the image of renewal, alive there in your hands. alive behind the curtain of the subconscious.

there is an idea of love. this is love. a negotiation of wants and gifts.

art credit?: Norman Catherine — Negotiator (oil on canvas, 1990)