January 25, 2009

Why I write

I don't know why I write.
I don't write for renown or recognition,
for people to marvel at my words (marvel indeed).
I scarcely write for myself.

Maybe I write because I've lost my voice.
It's been drowned in the tumultuous caverns of my soul,
I've forgotten its pitch and timbre as if it were never in my possession.
It remains unrecognizable and foreign to my being,
but I must salvage what is left
because I have so much yet to share!
Too many loves to be loved and purple skies to be seen,
too many beauties to be adored to be
without a pen to chronicle them!

I don't know why I write,

maybe I've found my voice.

January 04, 2009

On love

I will not love you for your smile,
I will love your smile because it is yours.

I will not love you for your eyes,
I will love your eyes because they are yours.

I will not love you for your hands,
or their sweet touch upon my skin,
I will love your hands because they are your own,
and their touch is the warmest gift.

I will not love you for your voice,
or your scent,
or your laughter,
or even your talents or good fortune,
I will love you because I know no better way,
because your smile is my smile,
and your eyes, my eyes,
because your heart is melded in mine,
and my air arrives at your breath.