Long have I bemoaned my life; ashamed of myself, my family, those who I loved loving not me. Approaching each dawn with sadness until the phantasm of love, vague dancing a will-o'-the-wisp, always there like the moon but not seen, not heard, until this blue moon smiling above greeted me; a different dawn speaking of love eternal enshrouded in halo glorious clouds singing. Celebrating resurrection dancing day and night rhythmically if not partial in me then in all wholly redeemed.
I arose this time, this date, bemused with thoughts concerns; could it be that my Christmas sadness knowing The Birth would end in innocent Death! Why have I not used this sense more economically in relating the days of my life ending soon? For I was like He born to live in a sea of strangers like a storm tossed sea greeting each wave pacifically.
And I love Him for He is He the beloved of me and my sadness is forever renewed each dawn remembering He will die. This slow steady march from spring to summer then the Fall, Inherent in each daily renewal the memories expunged briefly are soon renewed vigorously a friar's lantern sacramental always burning with in me the horror to come a jack-o'-lantern grinning nightly. Fantasia the wisp of my soul singing a duet with ineluctable inevitability. Epiphany the Twelfth Day the last of Him until Easter morn arisen again He from His brief stint in Hell's darkness in me. . . .a bright ever burning light never extinguished illuming eternity with Love's blessing All
120901 04:18 use it or lose it
Neither care worn nor soft but firm and warm cloistered a nun given dispensation to attend we were prayer partners. Occasionally she'd sigh others cry out the warm passing between us through our hands laying one in the others each transmitting heat grown painful to her but to me oblivious why did she cry out?
At another time I asked her, "did you have an adult male who wore suspenders white shirt, a fedora hat, who plowed with a horse and plow?" She looked in my eyes and cried, "My father in Ireland . . . "
120901 05:27 her hands
He is he of whom I said I would do for anything He asked of me
sexual or otherwise since in his eyes I see the far beyond the beyond
and finally though oft promised did we meet in his abode a rented
furnished apartment for dinner and as I walked talking through
his actual private life did espy the only living thing beside himself a Lucky
Bamboo grown enormous vigorous and otherwise nothing personal
save for a plethora of wolves depicted by another man he admired of life
he & I have nothing save these moments in which we pour ourselves
fully indiscriminate into the emptiness of those about to die equivalent
. . . for Jon LaVertu a nurse leaving 'my' hospice for his
120901 05:48 Jon LaVertu
Though by choice I am celibate there are times when in love I imagine visiting all the facets of love expressed physically yet farther on after the friendship blest with confidence and trust unknown throughout my live long life my soul androgynous
120901 06:00 androgen
footnote: I have no pretense or illusions about or how I write yet I must it seeming being a disease within me of needs excised frequently
Be well beloved of me, you all, reading or reading not me
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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