Lugh’s Garden

I closed the blinds today.
It seems better, somehow,
Not to see the world,
When there’s something
You really want to see,
But can’t.

It’s easier to stare at the
White walls, and the
White windows, than a
World, that stands between
Me, and the one thing I want
More than anything else.

Now my world is small,
Uncomplicated,
I can reach out and touch
The boundaries.
And there’s no room
For dreams.

When I was young,
I could afford big dreams,
There was plenty of time
For them all to come true.
Now it’s best to have small dreams,
The kind that fits into small time.

It’s all very neat, but,
There is still one thing,
That my small, white world
Can’t keep out,
It can’t keep me from thinking
About you.

I saw a cartoon on the internet,
It was a strange, bulbous, blue head,
But cute in its way,
With an oddly, small body beneath it.
It was holding a sign that said,
“Be Careful, my Heart is Fragile.

I saved the picture, but I thought,
How can I show this to anyone?
And if I did,
Wouldn’t it be saying,
I need to say this, because
You don’t already know it?

And wouldn’t that be saying,
I don’t trust you to know this,
Even though you say
You love me?
Because, that would be saying,
I don’t think you love me.

So, you won’t ever get to see that
Cute little picture, because
The one thing in this world I’m sure of,
Is your love.

Too many dreams dissolved,
To float away, like dust on a sunbeam,
There, then not,
Formless as forgotten thoughts.

Thoughts, compacted, rarified,
and compacted again,
Forced into a brain, trying to
Understand, where the cries
Are coming from, where the cries
Are going, why the cries
Are there at all.

It’s the sadness of a soul,
Screaming silently,
Hiding in an alcoholic haze,
Hoping the darkness will bring
Dreams, knowing they’ll just
Dissolve.

Be gentle, good soul,
The heart you are holding
Is broken and bruised.
It’s been ravaged by time,
And promises, unkept,
Too often caught, by
Fiery passion, and left
All alone, to burn itself out.

Treat kindly, this heart,
Lest it fail, in your keeping.
Let it warm next to yours,
If it warms yours as well,
Give it sweet words, and songs,
If it moves you to music,
Or kisses and smiles,
Should it bring you joy.

But if you should feel,
This heart is a burden,
Then set it down, gently,
Beneath a red primrose,
In a garden, untended,
With vines running wild,
To quietly pray, for
A soul that might need it.

Your life is like a paisley scarf,
Filled with twisted teardrops,
Big and little, colored like a garden,
Blowing in the breeze.
Watching it tips my balance,
But I can’t, not watch.

So drawn to the whirlpool
Of colors and sounds that generate
All around you,
I’m like a leaf in a wind storm.
One moment dry and brittle from the
Rarified edges of the storm,
Then pulled in close,
And filled with the moist heat
Flowing from your passion,
I’m made whole and fresh again.

I want to reach out, pull myself in,
And bathe in the essence,
Emanating from the center of
Your life, then toss back my head
And learn to fly.
I want to smell, and taste, each flower
That grows from your garden,
Like a bee in the springtime.

I want to be wrapped in that paisley scarf,
And tucked into a drawer,
Right next to the things you wear
Closest to your skin,
To lie luxuriously bathed in your scent,
And I want you to think about me,
When those garments catch, and hold,
The warmth of your body.

I want to wear you like a cloak,
And watch your swirling colors
As I dance across time, and space,
Showering you with pearls,
And laughter, plucking fruit
From the mountaintops,
Feeding you with my lips.

I could spend a lifetime
Counting your colors,
Kissing your flowers,
Swirling in the vortex of
Your passion,
And so, I watch, and wait,
Until the storm whips that scarf
Close enough for me to
Reach out and take hold.