Verbal Sustenance

Love me from the inside out

Caress my brain and call to my soul as we get lost

in stimulating intellectual exchanges of orgasmic verbal

foreplay giving to and getting from one another what

we require for constant audible accentuation to the

metaphysical magnetism that draws us closer to the

pinnacle of punctuated, plausible passion pervading our every fiber.

Our tongues dance with one another in heated exchanges of

communication

both verbal and physical

feeding one another with saturated pleasantries and exotic,

forbidden euphemisms we intentionally incorporate into our

verbal reflections of the present that we share which forces us to

the poetic peak we

now pervade after hours of unending elocution proclaiming our

unity to the world.

You make me better with your words and you fed the hunger in

me for exceptional explanations when you saw me struggling with

questions having no answers.

Riddle me this, you said, and took me by the hand engulfing me

tenderly in the intellectual appeasement needed to calm my nerves.

When I was lost in the jungle of contemplative skepticism you

ushered me into the dawn of finding my way at the sound of your

voice around each corner echoing in my limbs.

This mutual metaphorical musical of the minds leaves me breathless

and I lift my hands to your mouth for the manna that sustains me.

Sing syllables to my heart as I slowly surrender to gentle, sweet

slumber.

Universal Contemplation Part 1

what is the color of mortality?

is it the rainbow of colors held in one’s last words

does it shine like the sun when we emerge from

the womb of Creation

is it the steel gray touch of life’s ending darkness

when you look in the mirror does it consume your aura

begging for attention from the prisms of light with their magnificent

beauty in the shared space of the chakras that sustain your soul

is mortality the color of glowing hot reality that burns so bright  you

want to turn away from it yet you find yourself captivated by the

possibilities of its existence; its beginning its end

mortality

death

dying

the end

some welcome the face to face encounter of mortality’s finality

basking in the promise of eternal peace

while the masses try to bombard it with virtual trickery to ward off its

sting

still

it colors our every waking moment

making us blue with sorrow

green with envy

black with grief

white with fear

red with rage

and then it extends its unforgiving outstretched arms deceptively

beckoning its seekers of truth with false promises of self-realization and

personal knowing

it morphs into transparency shamelessly, invisibly encompassing all hues

until they

are blended into a cacophony of enigmatic portraits of life’s inevitable

outcomes

the palette of our mortality is incomprehensible in its fullness

the colors swirl in a myriad of shapes and designs like a kaleidoscope

blurring our perception of life exponentially

what is the color of mortality?

only immortality knows

Thank You Note

When she walked in the room it was nearly dark. Not pitch black just dark, it was lit by only three pillar candles balanced crudely by their own wax on a chipped, white plate. There was nothing spectacular about the place really. Still, it was warm with its hardwood floors, well-worn area rugs and hand-me-down furniture, this place was authentically comfortable and she liked it. There was nothing pretentious or staged about it. It just was.

She thought back to the note pushed insistently into her hand as discreetly as a quick glance. “I will” was all it said. It was something she’d wanted for so long.

She closed the door gently behind her so her eyes could adjust to the light. She put her purse on the coffee table and began slipping out of her coat. It wasn’t quite down her arms before she felt newly familiar hands brush against her arm helping her get comfortable. The brief contact made the hair on her arms raise and her pulse quickened briefly.

Now she was able to see around and recognize the respectable ceremony that existed in the room. Music with no words played and the sweet smell of lavender relaxed her and all at once her insides were plush. She’d wanted this more than anything as her emotions fluctuated between relief and anticipation. Fear had been banished forever. With a deep breath in and a satisfied breath out she knew there was no turning back now, not that she wanted to anyway.

Her Hostess showed her to the bathroom so she could take a shower and get ready. Small, but nice, the bathroom reminded her of the small tenement where she’d grown up. Not enough space to serve as a momentary retreat but big enough to accomplish its purpose she luxuriated in the smell of the soap and the hot water on her skin. When she was done she put on her favorite outfit and meticulously reapplied her makeup and styled her hair. A last look in the mirror and a quick spray of her favorite perfume she turned out the light and went into the living-room.

The smell of cumin and turmeric wafted from the kitchen and a hint of pumpkin spice made her grateful for memories of Thanksgiving and family. She would always have these memories with her. Her Hostess gestured towards the table and invited her to sit and enjoy her meal. The food was delectable though they ate in silence. After the table was cleared and the dishes were washed and put away there was tea and a simple dessert of buttery, warm pound cake with raspberry sauce. She took her time with each bite and she could see that her Hostess was proud that she was able to bring her this enjoyment. Her Hostess allowed her time to be in each moment of the evening before passing a knowing look that it was time.

In the bedroom the sage-colored sheets were freshly washed and she felt a rush of humility by the care taken to provide so many small, meaningful comforts. There was no hesitation as she climbed into bed and pulled the covers close around her to feel their warmth. Her Hostess had quietly moved away and returned to her bedside with a tray. She looked to her Guest for affirmation that was confirmed with a stoic nod. The whole thing took less than a minute.

Her Hostess gently cradled her hand in her own and stroked it reassuringly.
She knew that on her own terms she’d ended the battle with this disease that had ravaged her body and left her nearly incapacitated and emaciated and a prisoner of constant pain. She felt herself begin to drift and she whispered a quiet “Thank You” to her Hostess. Peacefully she was gone.

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