Knocking at the Door

I heard of a man who says words so beautifully
That if he only speaks their name,
Women give themselves to him.
If I am dumb beside your body while silence blossoms like tumors on our lips
It is because I hear a man climb the stairs and clear his throat outside our door.


     Why are the good things the most difficult? In the good times, we worry about what will happen to turn them bad. When we look through our memories, we think of how difficult things were then. When we look to the future, it is with apprehension. Why is it so difficult to stop and say, things are good now?

     And why do I still feel silent after all these years?

     I do not really believe there is only one person for each of us to ultimately love. I believe we can choose whom to love, who to build that kind of bond with. I also give little weight to the idea of love at first sight. I think love is too deep for that instantaneous connection. Love is also accepting another's faults, and how often are we attracted to those at first sight? I will agree it is possible to connect with someone on first contact; to strike a conversation and have an immediate understanding on some levels. But love is an understanding on all levels. In the end, I think that is much more romantic. All the flowers that I could send would eventually wither. All the words I could speak would fade into silence. But I will always remain. And if we should love each other, and if I should die, you would know at any moment what my replies to your lingering questions would be. The strength of youthful passions consumes all, leaving little but a hollowed husk. Enduring love rains gentle invigorating life and builds upon itself.

     And when I find that, and my voice is freed, I hope I can take a moment to realize how beautiful it all is without worrying about the knocking at the door.

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