Touch of All That's Real

You touched me in so many ways
that no one ever cared to do before.
And oh, the gentle healing - within
your touch, when love was present.

Why is it that, since that one moment
when you left, I cannot find the feel
of one true heart - the one that came
to me and dared to dream a vision
of reality.

The love, the healing, that only you
and I create- why is it that you
hold it back from me? No matter all
the many ways that I've reached out
to you...? Instead you try to make amends
within ambivalence (the war you chose
to bring to be, that fateful day you drove
away from me).

How can I stay away from you, until another
life might come to bring us to the touch
of our ecstatic unity...? (And oh, my love,
you know the depths of which I speak of
now.) No, I cannot fathom your appeal
to the unreal of rationalization. Because
for all that you imagine that you chose
the better course, I know that you can
feel the bitterness of your appeals.

You see, my dear, it matters - all the love
you share with those who never give
a loving moment back. And it matters -
every moment - that you choose to live
your life as if our love had never been.
Rational, your intellect still reaches to
disprove what came to be (no matter
all the magic you have seen and more
than that - felt vibrantly within you very
being).

Anger and invisibility - these are the only
shields that you and I have come to know
within our shattered lives. Behave, lie low,
and then perhaps that mighty power will
yet choose to come to pass again . Yet neither
one of us can e'er forget the feel of this -
all that our love created as the real for us,
no matter that it now seems once upon
a time.

Do you think of me as just one more
hallucination now...? Another high, that
passes on in morn. Oh please, just tell me
how you can continue to survive this way!
For no matter how I strive to put our love
into perspective, it refuses to become
the lie that you alone have chosen that
the two of us must live. What was it then...?

Did you surmise this heart of mine to be so wise,
that even your betrayal would somehow come
to make some sense in life and time...? Did you
think that I'd move on, move back - to those,
your chosen days of unenlightement...? Or is it
you've convinced yourself, that all the love
that we made real was never more than just
a fleeting fantasy of mind...? And still, you err,
yet ever more prodigiously.

We rose, you fell. You pushed me deeper than
you'd ever dared to go yourself.  There's nothing
more that I can do to prove this love to you. Unless,
until, you come to understand our love as real.
More real than any dream or height, or state
of mind in flying fantasy. These heights can be
the birth of all confusion. Yet understood - they
tell the truth of all reality...

? Michaelette ?

3/29/2002
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...