reckerson

Shining light when I first saw your eyes, my love. An angel, my heart you did occupy, love. We are two wandering halves of the same soul who are desiring to reunify love. Some men give cities, bodies, and spirit, but for you I'd give love another try, love. God's plan is perfect, and it is his to know; how could I know you yet your love deny, love? You plant your kisses with soft rose petal lips on my lips and whisper your lullaby, love. Your fingertips touch the beating of my heart in whose rhythm you can identify love. At night, while you sleep, I hold you close to me, praying to God, he who does sanctify love. Though in some months I will be leaving this place, the distance serves only to amplify love. Though the stars cannot be seen during the day, in darkness their light does intensify, love. Like the songs I sing and the roses you give, a love like ours exists to testify love. If love moves your hero's heart to write these words, may God move the pen to orchestrate my

I let go of you today our memories in the form of seeds I gave them to the birds at the lake to nourish them like they once nourished me. I tossed handfuls to the magpies who perched in the trees waiting for me to walk away - and I did. I gave some to the swan like the one that we fed back in Iceland. The gulls came and called for the others. Ducks swam over and quacked happily. A hooded crow joined and stared at me. I had no more food left to give, but he found some I had tossed on the ground. They´re still eating, those birds. Picking up the remnants of what I held onto. They will carry our memories far away from here, and I will sit near the still water.

Time has told the true apart, the faithful from the false. Echoes still sing of your face, and good fortune's faithful pulse is too tired to feel at heart. Seconds pass at season's pace, and memories mark the hours. I wish for what will heal my mind, which my grief devours. I seek a silent, sacred place. You will that we will never feel the love that we once lived. You have hardened your heart to the truth that is and to all the love I had to give. I rise and relinquish my need to kneel. His heart is now yours, and yours is now his.

There's an old guy that comes in here frequently. I think he was a professor... that's what they say at least. But anyway he's some kind of perfect specimen. All hunched over with crazy-ass white hair. His bag slung over his shoulder And his hobbling steps inching himself around looking for where he will sit and work on whatever the hell it is he works on. All I know is he's a perfect example of what it means to be true to yourself. I'd agree if anyone called him crazy - they do! - but this makes him unlike the rest! "Do I look like a professor?!" He grumbles like an old man in a psyche ward when I ask if he is one. No professor nowadays can teach a lesson like that. He truly is remarkable. Sitting there. Unnoticed Untouched by the New Age A relic of intellect A walking fossil... Our last hope.

At this point I don't know what I'd tell my significant other - my soul mate - if they walked up to me and made themselves known. Maybe something like: What the hell took you so long or Rent is due by the 7th , or maybe The tab is on you - I'm tired.