August 13, 2016, Prescott- I have a lot on my plate, so today, and for the next two days, I offer three separate topics, in verse.
No Upgrade Needed
I was blessed with the gold standard, as my son and I con
Then, she was called to the Placeless, and physically alone, I demurred.
I am in a good place, nonetheless, living in comfort, at least as I see it.
The roof does not leak. There are no scorpions, skittering about.
My work pays the bills, and volunteering cheers my spirit.
I see the bright blessed day, the dark, sacred night; joy, within and without.
The Universe saw fit to present me with a new car.
Collaborators, colleagues and friends, are never far.
Years back, I longed for someone special.
Her spirit lingers, tells me to fear no ill.
No upgrade is needed, whispers my Shining Star.
Reports of our demise are premature.
The desert shimmers; the sunsets dazzle.
Cars bunch up, each morning and evening.
Ants march in unison; each looks straight ahead.
The only surprise, day by day, is what the Maestro of Chaos has to say next.
There is no surprise, coming from the Lady of Hope.
Toys sit, unused. Children stare into screens, bemused.
Those who erred on the side of wicked find there are precious few places to lay their heads.
Dulcet dreams, though, bring my heart and mind to solace.
Each dawn rises, and warmth awakens my heart. I find the constancy fills my spirit, no less.
Men in hardhats, men in suits, men on furlough
Same as ever, taunts and hoots
Come from many, without a thought.
I acknowledge the lovely, the “hot”.
The mind, though, is more captivating.
The snarkiness, the challenge, the striving,
These are what I most treasure.
I had the joy, upon a time, of long conversations,
Into the night-once until first light.
She made me promise not to let our words and thoughts stray so far again.
She made me promise never, ever, to lift an unkind hand, or give voice to an injurious thought.
I kept those promises. The goal was the golden strands of the spirit,
the Heavenly Rapunzel, letting down the cascade of coiffure,
that she and I would, hand over hand,
hand in hand, achieve the eternal,
as one soul.
Women are never playthings; partners as objects is a mindless construct.
People are not implements; viewing the Other is a means to self-destruct.