what happens when you take away your reaction? is there nothing left?
what happens when you take away your reaction? is there nothing left?
I remembered several of my dreams last night. That rarely happens to me. As I drove to work this morning I found myself going over them in my head. This evening, there’s one that’s still there– the others having been relegated to my subconscious mind where they generally dwell. The one that’s still with me …
the spaciousness of my home when i alone am here– is staggering.
if a springboard is what you are why not propel me as high and as far as possible? beyond threat of imagination or existence– past sighs and romanticism spurring challenge and transition expansion and separation a limitlessness that few can fathom jumping up and beyond an unquantified chasm– allowing for the possibility that you might imagine …
leaving doors cracked makes it impossible to open any wide…
the magical ebb and flow of me and you a crushing ease– the mysterious pain of realization– an unintended understanding of the bigness of our oneness. a union which neither of us could have possibly anticipated– the journey of two separate pieces, complete and continuously forming and un-forming to become more. moving together, …
i want to enjoy every moment of you– never move into a place where who you are is anything less than perfectly beautiful. i want to know you like the back of my hand. i’m beginning to know you like the back of my hand. the space between us creates a distinct and enduring …
i get to take you everywhere to the farthest reaches of my mind into shadows no one else would dare to wander past my breaking point and far beyond the limits i keep insisting do not exist. i hear your voice on good days louder than my own– it encourages, buoys and transfixes me– …
There are moments when i’m with you– a smile refusing to release its hold on the edges of my mouth– my heart soaring with what can only be my deepening devotion– when i’m overcome by the increasing power you hold over me– though you’ve asked for nothing. I listen to your careful soliloquies on …
I can’t fathom a way in which I don’t love you. the perfectly arcing circle– a rounded perspective– each angle revealing a larger truth– an exponential expansion. I can’t find the words or articulate the sentiment– but feel with every cell of my being the constant communication from my soul to yours– messages travelling …
the edges of myself 