I want you to know exactly how much I love you while we’re still here. My deepest gratitude for you and all you do. Not only for me, but for everyone and everything that surrounds us. Creating beauty out of thin air. A bubble in your gardens surrounding solitude’s peace and quiet. It’s our dumb luck. Like bees, crawlers or butterflies that don’t know what they are. That’s all we need. Blessings are nice too. Take what you require, not wanting much.
Forget that constant static in my head. Ringing in the ears, blurry vision, the infirmity of skin and bones. Blood pumping in a bursting heart. You gave me the greatest gift of my life, a place inside my head that feels like home. You nurture beautiful gardens of happiness. The good memories flower, blooming through the seasons of our lives filled with hidden fears and quiet despair. It’s miraculous, to dwell here among the immortals without fear. Cheers to forgotten misfortunes. The bright moments are like diamonds. How we got here, nobody knows. That’s the great mystery of this place called home. I couldn’t have done it without you. You proclaim life is expensive. It’s free. I think it’s your innocence that always matters. The truth that love conquers all. I wish money grew on trees.
No lost cause; we grasp the sunshine. Wrapped in light, our days burn slowly in the sun. The dark nights never last. Follow me, digging under walls to a place I know. You can be there anytime waiting. Way down under, to the opening, outside walking to the shade of ancient trees. A treasure of multitudes. We laugh and laugh so hard it hurts. Then we forget what was so funny. It never matters, so we laugh again. The birds sing for us, a captive audience. You feed them the love they chirp.
Then fireflies blink at dusk, flashing on and off. Beacons of another green world. Those phosphorescent bugs are trapped inside a mason jar. Holes were punched in the lid to let in some fresh air. Can they survive? You would do the same for me. Captives in all nature, stuck in a translucent prison of forever night. We were children once, weren’t we? Innocent maybe, too, even holy. Not so ignorant of the evil truths that surround us. Too much or not enough is the standard for this good life we live. That’s what love is for. A dwindling commodity of loss and regrets that makes our lives get in the way of living. To love and be loved in return.
It must be that simple. Easy ways out of this world are found here, hidden in our daily lives together. Close your eyes and dream. Mapping out the secrets, plotting our escape. It’s just that easy to breathe in, breathe out, and learn to die. It’s a magical trick, the devil be damned. I’m trying to get there, but I can’t go it alone. I can’t take you with me. But we may tag along anyway. All the adventures shared together are the fondest memories of remembrance. This is our home, our fate, our family. In this desire of waiting, watching the world go on with or without us. It’s always seemed this way. How can we know? The greatest love story ever known is the one still going on. It’s the way of the world that we live to do or die, never knowing what is, if this or that was, or shall be.
No expiration dates are available on the calendar of loss or gain for anyone. It’s no great accomplishment to love, but loss shadows the days we live. It’s a hard way to get through to the end of another day. The years shrink away from the rest of what’s left. There’s always plenty to go around; enjoy the feast. We don’t need much of anything to sustain ourselves in this new wayward state of grace. Like any ordinary day. A smile and a nod to the moon. Blinking eyes squint at the same sun that makes the flowers bloom over again. We’re so lucky to be alive. The light still shines. There are no hard rules, no silly laws, and no gods willing to limit power. We don’t need the unfeeling world to know. It’s natural enough to exhale, and exist with only one love to share.
