Picasso's

Written 11/15

Sometimes The Way, The Universal, The Great Aeolian Harp

stirs or sounds at the strangest of times -

Here in this bar, the loud music overtaking 

the sounds and voices of my mind,

I am left with few thoughts that chase away

or disconnect me from the divine -

That driving, driving force, striving to

push all distraction from me as all I'm left with

inside is your beautiful face.

And while you may be over, may in fact be done 

with me, you have to understand that every

breath I take is an exhale-inhale of your absence

and the fiery desire of your being -

that looking into your face, seeing you laugh, leaning

into you and all you represent for me

is the long and short of the desire of my soul,

And all these songs play, and all my

music points to

my inability to let go of you and your sorcery:

Your bewitching presence that pulls and compels 

every harmonizing fiber of my being.

No we're not done, at least I never was,

And I love you - love you with all the strength and

inner growth and serenity that I don't yet even have

because I'm letting it grow - and am willing to give you 

already or cash it in, in exchange for the warmth

of your smile and the feel of your arms.

Forgive me, then. Forgive me for not letting go.

Absolve me, if you can. Who can blame me for wanting

You, and only you, alone?