entertaining new awakenings,
passenger windows of pathways,
in the headlights, coming..

maybe
I'm not
as crazy as I think
learning to sit still,
hard work.
recognize, this here, all, but a blink

amongst the proverbial
ever present eye
all the chatter, the fear
that keeps me stuck,
the longing, deep inside

we are all, I guess,
warriors
of our own minds
seeking some softness,
amongst all the concrete, unforgiving
unkind

back to nature
focus, trees
release all the longings
I so wanted, the you
I found, so alive here,
in me

all the passion, pouring out
all the things I realize
the most important, I'm without
a real sense of belonging
and some exquisite soul, to give
god damn, I want, and wanted it, be you
but you've got your own ghosts,
your own seeking, of truth

we met, we found,
whatever this was
but I cannot force, or convince
you, "this", a strange kind of love

yes, I know, for me, it's true
and found myself, your labyrinth
engulfed, absorbing your electric hues
things I so, look up, admire, in you
your sense of fire, and freedom
and "the done", when you're through

adamant, obstinate
mercurial, maybe "mad"
so much revealed, when guard down
deep eyes, sad

I saw it early,
and you said you felt blessed
by whatever force
that brought me, to sit by you, next

evolution, evolved
to the place we're now at,
it all happened naturally
no preconceived plan
or equation, "expect"

just day in, day out
I experienced you
"in the drivers seat", all your thoughts, ringing true

and
In so may states, and so many flows
realized realizations, that i did not see coming, or "chose"
and found myself feeling
more and more, in heart, there, with you, just "at home"

there was an actuality
that brought us together
never would have met,
had the fates', not there, intervened, so tethered
us, to that which, we both seek,
to escape
all the everyday enslaved, but for the dollar, to make

the day to day doldrums,
life as a monetized mundanity
but if not for that exact reality
I would've never found you,
your incredible, unfathomable
palpably touching humanity

the paradox, the parallax view
all the hundreds times thousands
of moments, bled magic, that led me to you

the fears of strangers
and findings,"too close",
"the run and the ruin it",
projections of ghosts

that cause the moments
of terror, this "tender"
one of us "stamped",
the recipient versus sender

synergies, synchronized
maybe that's all, one can hope for, here
fleeting, found, your paradise, wise

and again, I return,
those same, soul like sex,
drenching, dream eyes

say the wants and the wishes
of an unrecognized life

but for all i've seen, and all I know,
comes the pain and the struggle
to let it all go
some rare beings
you just want to bathe in, bask, behold, forever
the "internal combustion"
of chemistry, mystery
the connection, ...."it....must...then"...

"mean this, if that"
and if not,
then it must mean, nothing at all
our fragile egos
on the edges of them, like cliffs
do we fall

what I want, and see, "just me"
reflections, visions, apparitions
of "we"
all the things
that may not come to be
whatever it's called, whatever it means...

as alone in our worlds,
of want and wander, search, see

so again, I return, the silence
and sanctuary, trees
and can only hope, in human
that you will somehow remember me

as the realization swells
it's all minefields, of "mine, feels" 
must "own this"
the experience, alone, this.

I can never be you,
I can never know what's really true
all I ever could ask,
is that, for the fleeting, in moment
you, just for a second,
may have felt it too

(the love, it was real)

the inner chaos corrupts
we return to games,
minds don't trust
we run and we run,
the ever inner, insatiable son

but, in surrender,
yes, I once saw through
to the immense, immeasurable heart
that you hide, and you cultivate chaos,
to prove

that nothing and no one,
excuse the gender, the sex,
will ever truly know or capture
you
until the day,
you are released to the rapture

of allowance, "the open"
not a manipulate, for a take,
or a token

not a mirage of masks,
for the chore or the task

of being anything, but
the beautiful you
fearing the vulnerable,
you vacate
and return to all the voices
inside, you war, like a soldier,
troop, placate

this, we collide, here,
and return to the silence,
our inevitable "separate"

as in "separate from",
but aligned, in a way
both "casualties of war"
the
"are you sick of me yet?",
wounds, insecurities, we betray..

ourselves
and those,
around us,
who'll stay

watch over and cradle
our "sleepless", no blame

I felt that for you
and I loved it, lived it,
to a point, impassioned.

compelled,
drawn to,

no shame.


bowen hart roselli
1 april 2020
ringwald love