A sudden shift from that aching void to new
insights. Your voice
illuminated
every dark corner
I needed to hear your voice.
I am sorry that it's memory has faded. I was really hurting last night. Can you hear your
voice, darling... listen
to your words, though you cannot hear your
voice
Pure and unmarred by our outter
thin
Never be ashamed or disenchanted That is what fills our souls
with hope. Hopes and desires can
be orgasmic in themselves.
I have already walked the night air with
you, I
have consumed you fully,
May the door be a veil of silk sweetheart!
....Those are your beautiful words, my
darling.
You are still not certain
Your Voice
I needed to hear your voice.
I did not
recognize it at first.
Was this the voice
of
the poet, the humorist,
the lover, the
friend?
Yes.
Furiously trying to match what I
was hearing
with all the written words.
They matched!
But more.
Your voice
reframed all those words
into something not
only real but shining.
and radiated even more
love and wisdom than I had imagined.
I
can
no longer play it again in my head.
But the
value it lent continues...
refreshing,
nourishing, inviting my heart to go on.
The
words are yours.
I love them.
But the
voice?
The voice is you.
Your voice.
The accent, the tone,
the
way you construct your sentences,
the
inflection, your laugh.
I have your voice
now.
How can a man have the power
to make every
pain and care disappear?
Here, listen...
Mmm, pagan moods?
They bring out the best
of us sometimes.
That which is needed to
feed the inner fire
and is passion to us
all.
and fragile shell,
put on each
morning to wear for the public.
for
thinking you may call the cosmic bluff
and
lose, dear.
It's when you hang your very
existence on that hope
that danger is
brushed too closely,
or never calling the
bluff to start with.
That passion can
heat you to boiling
and be so very
satisfying,
it pales the disappointments of
real life.
absorbed your laughter and felt the
thrill
of your sweet lips on mine.
and reveled in
your sweet tender touch.
There is an answer somewhere in all of this.
I seek not to change you,
nor sway you from
your destiny.
Only to be an observer of the
beautiful butterfly
as she breaks forth
from another woven Chrysalis of time.
Your words were not dimmed by
your voice.
Your meaning was not
marred.
Your voice, your laughter, your
meloncholy tone,
how sweet to me.
But I am, even in all my amazement
For I have not only your words
The Voice!
