Each Drop (Part Two)

I have lived, years without you now;
Water and wind, move fast, move past;
Everything is mutable here,
Abstract or concrete, nothing lasts.

The monsoon winds are strong
And I remember you wet in rain.
You left – them, long ago;
But here they are wetting everything again.

I’m lying in bed,
Thousands of minutes away,
And remaining here,
Think of the gods who cast me away.

I heard a song, that reminded me
Of the way you turned to look at me,
And I cried a bit – maybe more –
Remembering all we used to be.

Now, my darling, I’m not afraid.
There is no fear of living or dying;
Because it’s just a road, taking me
To the place, where you’ll be lying

In wait, with all the rest who went before
To become the value of this life –
Who will profess how well I lived
And vouch for each drop of love and strife.

That’s what it all comes down to:
This journey traversing me and you:
A meeting, a distance and a gate
And all that’s eventually true.

If not, I have, yet, nothing to fear:
There won’t be a calling back…
I’ll give voice to wind and heart to water,
And fade upon the stars dressed in black.

High

The fruit has ripened.
But it hangs high on the tree.
It will ripen further and die,
Slowly.

The sun will hit it hard.
The moon will not help at all.
The best thing for it to do is
Fall.

Birds may help it perhaps,
Maybe a strong breeze,
A god may help, if it says
Please.

Knowing providence though,
It’s more likely to hang and rot,
It’s one of those things that love just
Forgot.

It does look tasty and juicy,
But it’s so very, very high,
I might as well give up before I
Try.

What I Know

I have been here before;
I have slept on this floor;
I have counted each vein,
Left on windows by rain;
Spoken words echo through;
Each remind me of you
And you and you and you;
I don’t doubt all were true,
When you said them to me;
They filled this room, silently;
They seeped into these walls;
Each one of them recalls
How they filled a lost heart;
And stayed to never part;
But you did;
And I hid.

I left this place of hope;
I left this place to cope,
With what was left to me,
Quite silently.
I walk back now,
With a wiser brow,
And a sharper eye,
With no need to try
To weigh my mistakes.
(I thought there were none.)

I do not blame you;
Neither this soft view,
Through the window pane,
Against fresh soft rain
That is so known; yet
Such that I forget
Why I hid long ago
From this slept-on floor.