Mature love has evolved as the day has ripened
Reassurances are no longer needed, wished for- required
These seasoned feelings walk tall, unabridged
Living for every quality moment,
Earned in the wake of their new-found 'knowing'.
As time climbs fervently on... unaware of its escape
Thankful only for 'everything' and the breadth of its meaning.
True retirement of the senses,
At last- the Soul- now comes to Life.
It could take a thousand lifetimes
Of recycled spirits to reach this exquisite, desired end.
To finally lay the exhausted soul to rest,
That wanders not for freedom's sake-
But for the gratitude it seeks to be made worthy.
A man-made sole has not the length in store
To tread such a highway as this,
Therefore, hope is born;
Into the heart, mind, handful
To coddle, make love and adore.
Even now, eager eyes, tongue's and memories
Linger in hallways; hidden pathways, and
The emptiest corridors, aching in their cognitive fear
Concentrating deftly on peripheral nonsense
That often belies the wounded heart...
Let us not mention again, such minute trivialities
The scorn of bedside manner at their end-
Bodes the suffering enough, for what is to come;
Another Birth, purgatorial puberty and again
Blistering through the same mistakes, scarred and error-laden
To the yet, impotent youth, stifled in its own arrogance.
To curate and revere the outcome of our pain,
Glorifying the burn-marks of experience;
What a lily-livered lament.
Bosch told his visual tale in great detail
That we may see with visceral regret,
How the Soul can come to fear Hell and all her belongings...
Who chooses such a fate as this?
Who takes that malevolent hand of emotional destruction
Kissing into the bleak and curdled coagulation of nothing...?
Comforted by the 'void'?
But Oh, there is a flip side...
Where wrinkles form through smiling;
Despite the greed of ignorance
...and waking from yesterday and her many moons,
Filled to the breast with affection and joy
Milking these truths for what they are,
...coming away with wisdom.
Mutating beautifully into a cocoon of completion.
I want the afterlife of understanding
To look back on a sunset filled with honeyed aftertaste
...and tangerine tinge...
Bestowed upon, in gift- to my ever-loved posterity.