In the deepest moments of desire…
In the quietest moments of the night…
When my heart is opened wide in joy…
In my emotional reaction to music…
When my heart expands to fill me…
When I am fearful…
When I am amazed…
These are the times that I remember…


There is a stillness in the night. The room is pitch black. Without optical stimulation, the translucent phantoms of my mind’s eye flicker across my field of vision.  She is fast asleep, and all that I can hear is the soft sound of her breathing; the noise of air flowing gently in and out of her. Shhhh… it is the calm wave breaking on a beach. Ishhh… the pebbles rattle over one another as the wave recedes. Her sounds create fantasy inside me, and for a moment or two the phantoms morph into recognisable shapes before my mind moves on.

I remember…

…when you said you love me:
When we were young, and I was there
Beside you in long sweet grasses
My fingers twining through your hair…

Is it strange that my mind should go back all those years? I suppose not. My heart and mind are inseparable from her. I wonder what time it is here? No light anywhere… it must be earlier than six. Will I ever get back to sleep?

I remember…

…when your ripe lips met mine
And stopped the silly words that spilled
From out of my embarrassed mouth,
Entreating me to be fulfilled…

God! When she first kissed me! I remember that feeling so well… It was so soft… so promising… so all encompassing… How many years is it now? Perhaps it is better not to think how many years; better to just accept the passing of them. And just accept my good fortune to have found an angel… my angel…

I remember…

…when we were young and free:
With hours to laze on Truly Hill
Where warm and balmy breezes blew
Where skylarks gently sang a trill…

Everything boils down to simplicity in the end… No need to count years. Time is ultimately irrelevant. What matters is how we are now. At any time. But when is now? I remember those birds back then, so high up, and their song so ‘right’ as they hovered high above us… So peaceful to listen to them. So perfect that day…

I remember…

,,, your breath cool on my face,
Desire building close to flare-up,
Your softness some great miracle…
Perfect you, my darling Cherub...

Does passion change so very much with time? I guess it does. Metamorphosis of passion over time… It mellows, doesn’t it ? … No, it matures; becomes greater in intensity because of its greater depth. It transposes the physical, and enters the realms of spirit. It is enough to be; be with her… In mind, in memory, in spirit, in reality… they are all the same, all energised in the same way, all supported by the same power, all intertwined like my fingers in her gossamer hair…

She sleeps like a child.
Innocent.
Peachy smooth skin.
I reach to touch,
but stop my outstretched fingers short.  
Do not wake her…
Do not make her stir…
In her dreams is where we meet…
In her dreams I am reconnected…

© Griffonner 2024