Between the desire and the response a longevity, however brief, results. That the chequered window cover takes me there is either of some consequence or of no consequence. Such chance that the indigestion slows the mind, the potassium, however slowly, is on its travels. That I shake my head, to will away the dullness, says no more to me than I am still among the waking. With the clock stopped at some indiscriminate hour; time left there for the attention of the clock-winder. The day breathes its fresh life into the dank mist, soon the light, light that brings hope, so soon the light. To not have taken the best of sleep, to have had sleep taken away by inconsiderate conversations. These words could be approaching neurotic; that shadow will be fought, but first the thoughts have to be recounted.
The original plan was to cycle to open country, there to lay down on some verge or meadow. To write words that float with effervescent beauty; the grand evocations of love in all its embodiments. More like I will not make the movement, become otherwise distracted, or worse, otherwise employed. As if the opening of the evening primrose was not itself of such significant captivating magic. Here then the desire turns to longing, to amplify wanting seven fold, before eliciting a response. Just as wine matures through oak, and ages, let desire evolve also as a worldly potent fluid. To well up in all parts of the body and soul, confound the logical mind with its infinite possibilities. That this longing and wanting should occasionally settle should not instill doubt; it is an ever present. That it should rise and subside in unknown measure gives a certainty of its stealth for some response. If all you give out are doubt or subterfuge, if all you dare to cleanse are past half-owned untruths.
You might ask how to prevent this, or better you may open yourself to some clear, true & free space. Is this the stop to be afraid of, is this the fear that causes your indefatigable unconditional restraint. The muddled mind cannot reason why; to sidestep is its well practiced and chosen verse. That way to enter the fair light of morning, that way to edge away from the shrouds of uncertainty. Instead to walk away, close the questioners door, instead to turn to the chatter of the birdsong. Rehearse, and again rehearse, the words for the songbook; take a pen, to a few lines of rhyme.
From the Collection One Crow to a Tree - Love in Separate Houses available from Lulu
