There, in your eyes, I just caught your nakedness. The swiftest second of a truth that can only ever come from our irises and never our lips.
I saw the trace of a question that will never be asked and, in a few soft blinks, it will disappear into the halls of history which hold all the moments that didn’t quite make it.
Yet, it was there. A bare skinned query dressed only with notes of longing: Are you mine?
No, my love. I am not yours. I belong to me.
I am neither your penance, nor your prayer. I cannot save you. You cannot keep me.
I will roam with you through mountains and caverns, looking for the land that we left all those lifetimes ago, searching for the scattered dreams that stayed behind. I will reach into each memory that the earth shares with our traveling toes as we wander from forests to fields.
But you cannot colonize my heart.
I will sit with you as you conjure up your own darkness, feeling no fear of your strength. I will watch as shadows cast their story on your skin as you walk between worlds to find the origins of the scars that haunt you.
But you cannot stake a claim on my soul.
I will witness your vulnerability. I will not lower my lashes as you reveal your secrets. I will not recoil as you dust off your shame. In the daylight hours, when the blanket of darkness is utterly absent and you are stark and so very seen, I will embrace your beautiful body.
But you cannot cover my wild wounds.
We are not of this world, you and I. Had you forgotten?
I am the volcanic ash that can’t quite settle. You are the tide that must always turn. We were sent here to seek and explore. The still life is not an option for us, for when we stay static the world pours cement on our spirit, leaving us to chip and chisel away at the bind we never asked for.
Our contracts to our own souls are our only commitment. We will neither be caged nor contained. Don’t you remember?
Together we will shake off the debris that weighs us down. Our faith in who we are will be a balm to the brittle brokenness that sometimes causes us to cry out in anguish when our liberty is challenged.
We will lay on moments of love and hours of hope. We will speak of the dreams that move us, the demons that plague us and the need that sweeps through us. We will close the curtains on hands that try to shape us and rogue fears that seek to bury us.
We will set ourselves alight with a passion that is sweeter than any skin could know, a desire that surpasses the physical and leans in to the lyrical.
Together we will take shelter from the elements of life that sting our hearts and bleed our joy. We will abandon ourselves to the drops of truth that our way of life showers us with and even when the cold shivers come, we’ll know that they are a reminder of our capacity to feel each season fully.
There in the depths of everything we never knew, we will find chinks of the chains that were discarded as we took flight into a sky that cried freedom. We will circle a sun that blazes it’s glory without apology for scorching the earth below. Our fingers will trace the velvet linings of a journey that has taken the thunderous road to get to the gardens of awe.
We will meet in many lifetimes, you and I. Afterwards we will be changed. Never entirely the same. Forever altered because of the love that ran through our veins.
We are the unending rhapsody that triumphs each time it flows free.
But I will not be yours and you will not be mine.
Collect your souvenirs from the storm, my love. It is time to leave.