Words

This is something I wrote while I was surrounded by mountains and forests.  A fantastic thunder storm had rode through and in the quiet afterward I couldn't help but think of KB and think about how short life is regardless of how many years we have.  When love is in the mix one year or 100 years is never enough.  With love there is always pain but every second of suffering is worth it just to feel what it means to be loved and be able to love.  To be clear this isn't about sadness this is about giving yourself over to passion because when the moment that is life passes the last thing you want is to feel that you missed a chance to truly embrace your passion whatever it may be.  I realize that this probably won't make any sense to most people who read it and maybe that's because you are still in your moment and you still have a chance to give into passion.
Standing in the rain and standing in that moment with no others before and no others to follow. A thousand clichés dance through my mind; all are true and none are enough truth to be deserving of that title.  Her name on the wind as sweet as her breath against my face.  The rain mixed with tears shed for a moment that will not be spoken of in my heart now in this particular moment.  The waters of the sky and of man mingled so perfectly that none could be sure from where the streams on my cheeks are drawn.  The moments that are not forgotten yet don't exist in this still point of my existence will ring of perfection when the world turns once more.  I know that when the world turns again it will turn at an agonizingly slow pace with days drawn out too long and nights too short to ever find rest and peace. 
All of these are truth and yet all fall short of the truth that is buried deep in my soul dying to be born into the world with no words to carry the truth to light.  I feel the frustration of knowing that there will never be words to bring satisfaction.  Her sweet breath, soft hair and warm embrace will linger in the moments to come.  All of these are just moments and memories and the dearth of their presence in my reality may bring tears but it is the absence of the unyielding truth of her words that crushes me. 
If I could do no more with my life I would tell you that love is not what you know it to be.  As beautiful and soft as it may seem it is also a terrible beast that tears you limb from limb.  It greedily imbibes your essence leaving a blissful husk of what was once a man who is not now aware that he is dead and cold.  Love and death are unlikely lovers yet there they walk hand in hand one beautiful and one terrible and both bring about torment and misery that no words can describe.  Before these lovers can steal them, we must turn our words loose with barbaric relentlessness.

Strike without hesitation when you know that love is upon you.  Let your words fly out with rampant passion and grip her soul where they will wring out feelings so viscous and succulent that a mere heart could only dream to emote this way.  Where love comes sweetly to quiet your words, death will follow all too soon and you will know the horror that your words are no more.  If only I had known that I could espouse love to rage and rally and loose a volley of words that would echo beyond the reach of eternal sleep and she would have no doubt. 
But that moment has passed and the chance to speak is gone.  The words come from my soul and find no ears or heart to fall on but I have to believe they are heard and I have to believe that she knows.  I had only a moment, as we all do, and all I can do is wonder if I've made the most of it with my words and actions.

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