Weeping Upon Touching
Small steps... very small - 2 months, many more since pleasure took root.
I don't need pictures, I don't need music - everything is imprinted into my mind, the touch, the feelings. The feelings flooding my heart and mind, invading my space and waging war on my already battered fighters. Pushing forward then pulling back. Friends or family lying and sharing space and time. Fighting tears and biting lip while making progress. A formidable opponent, passion and heart. Practicality and rationality needing reinforcements but finding none, only soft tenderness in the form of deep compassion. Feelings still exist - deep caring, not wanting to hurt - still desiring to please. The world and life whirls and recklessly rocks at a snails pace.
I hid my face, turned down the lights, filled my fingertips with the here and the now. They found the before, felt a dream, invoked flashes in my mind, playing upon the drawn curtains of my eyes. Washing the film from the wall, turning, knowing I couldn't explain the rain during the dark night's first flash of sun. Every step forward carries with it the knowledge of where it has been and where it is now. Every step further requires more and more determination knowing that the paces just taken behind felt hallow, yet sound. Yet I've chosen to march further along until I gain speed and strength, or from desperation, hunger and thirst - turn to my right or left finding there are more paths than the one I am choosing to walk upon.
I don't need pictures, I don't need music - everything is imprinted into my mind, the touch, the feelings. The feelings flooding my heart and mind, invading my space and waging war on my already battered fighters. Pushing forward then pulling back. Friends or family lying and sharing space and time. Fighting tears and biting lip while making progress. A formidable opponent, passion and heart. Practicality and rationality needing reinforcements but finding none, only soft tenderness in the form of deep compassion. Feelings still exist - deep caring, not wanting to hurt - still desiring to please. The world and life whirls and recklessly rocks at a snails pace.
I hid my face, turned down the lights, filled my fingertips with the here and the now. They found the before, felt a dream, invoked flashes in my mind, playing upon the drawn curtains of my eyes. Washing the film from the wall, turning, knowing I couldn't explain the rain during the dark night's first flash of sun. Every step forward carries with it the knowledge of where it has been and where it is now. Every step further requires more and more determination knowing that the paces just taken behind felt hallow, yet sound. Yet I've chosen to march further along until I gain speed and strength, or from desperation, hunger and thirst - turn to my right or left finding there are more paths than the one I am choosing to walk upon.