Of poems expressing a now only vaguely familiar young, tender & aching heart, some are more lengthy and complex (or so I thought at the time). Being totally honest some forty-years later, back then I enjoyed what more delicately if not clandestinely was referred to by some as Elixir Vitae. A-hem. That was so long ago $25 bought a two-finger bag and I’m told it was considerably more mellow both in taste and potency.
Don’t go getting all haughty-taughty on me, by the time of my age we’ve all done things and I haven’t indulged in years (also being honest). Obviously the feelings expressed were important enough to cart these around with me through countless moves all of those years. They’re probably the only thing of my life then that I do still have with me.
I recall digging deep inside trying to pull out what was a painfully embedded splinter of empty loss and loneliness at the time. If others can relate, all is good. If not I probably shouldn’t have said anything.
Life’s a risk. Putting your heart out there is one of its more high-risk ones.
In the depths of darkness love waits
conception of this empty space;
in the darkest catacombs of my mind,
void of form and wandering
mid lost eternal binds.
Enhanced by a close nothingness
and clothed only by the Dreamer’s dancing visions …
so close, so dark,
so pure a nothing…
so much for something I cannot touch,
so much a nothing for something I cannot caress and cannot see.
Messengers bid entrance with reserve –
it’s a narrow passage to the unborn secured
within a mother’s womb –
subdued by weary intensity that floats a guard,
this nothingness that is so much more
than Nothing I have known before …
it’s rolling darkness, its endless void
expelling beyond my mass of thought
so real, so dense a door is not …
merely space for edging me
the timeless bliss
of what will never be.
~ ©Karen Suzanne ~
Image courtesy of Bing’s gonnelli.it