The words kept me up again – wide awake
in the middle of the night. I can’t resist them.
They know that.
They must know that.
That’s why they come.
Sometimes they come with spirits I’ve yet
to be introduced to. And I welcome them,
because I am helpless to do otherwise.
And so I lie awake
writing intrepid lyrics
upon the luminous, sometimes shadowy walls
of my psyche. Sometimes I see ghosts there.
Or think I do. They are welcome too. They know that.
They must know that.
That’s why they come.
In the morning I light candles.
But it’s still night – still quite dark while I lie awake,
stoking those flames of my
awareness with thoughts of you.
You are my latest mystery –
shrouded by a dozen invisible summers.
We both know winter.
We both love rain.
We met in spring.
I’ve told her nothing about the dragonflies of my youth.
And nothing about what keeps me awake at night.
I wanted to tell her that I loved her right away.
I wanted to tell her even before we had ever met.
I wanted love to be the
preface of the story we might share – a passionate
prologue penned by the hand that shapes the destiny that binds us.
I wanted us to begin with the truest emotion,
and allow the deepest understanding to be our climax –
the pinnacle of our quintessential poetry . . .
before the rebirth that allows it all to begin again – brand new.
Wayne Allen LeVine © 2011