My thoughts

In the passing,
in the silent city,
mechanical wind cooling our exertions,
drying the hour of passion to our skin —
the sound of your slumber,
pressed to me in safety despite the torpid nocht,
gives rhythm to my thinking,
the only meaning to the moment.

Questions flash and futures collide,
answers demanded before their time.
Too little, too much,
the scales find no balance as they whirl,
my heart aches an echo
across the gyring abyss.

No! Too much, too soon,
there is nothing because there can be nothing,
truth is found in time
and I am about waiting,
about waiting,
waiting.
about.

So I quiet myself
in a mystery shared
and splendid release,
your trust for now
my soul’s ease.
And my future is no more my fear,
forgiveness or trouble my back will bear,
but for you your hopes, your gentle tear,
I tremble,
your heart holding,
in my uncertain care.

For if I came by or if I did not, I would no worse off be
(though your gentleness I, too, have sought,
anodyne to my isolationist knot)
and blows and might
and spurn and destruction
I have and continue forever
to absorb into my construction.
Yet for all crushing I can withstand,
I would
banish
collapse
erase
my self in all moments if by my hand
or even my presence now in your life
I should add an ounce of strife,
by opening doors too soon or blindly
my curiosity and affections would seem unkindly
for I am a gifter of God’s love
and His o’er my own, will, above
thus I share His gift — love abundant,
and to see you vital and colored by it
does all answer my life give its meaning
but I fear
too quickly
your heart’s keening
when center, truth, hope, strength is the Lord’s desire to build in thee.

Into His hands I place your care,
so by my side I find you there,
His gift, my love, a gentle thunder,
a night, for you, untroubled slumber.