Like the Rain

I can see the clouds change over me
And I await the rain. It will come soon,
But when it does, I know I will not be
Unhappy, although it is almost June
And I long for the sun. The rain will pass;
It has no power to hurt me at all,
For it is but an empty, formless mass
Of water, forced by gravity to fall,
And bears me no ill will. Oh, if it could,
I cannot think of how I would endure;
But without purpose there's no ill or good,
And rain is purposelessness, strong and pure.
So I will watch the clouds, and feel the rain,
But from it all I draw no doubt, no pain.

Jointure

I have not had an hour since you left
In which I did not think of you - my dreams
Have been reflections of you. From that cleft
Between us, I can see the feeble gleams
Of brighter days, high up and far away,
When you will be once more with me, and we
Will joy together and no longer stray
Into the doom of separability.
Of course I know that is a fantasy,
And there's no way that I can make you stay,
But there's a comfort in it, though I see
It is unstable in a shallow way,
For in the deeper heart of it, I know
That neither one will let the other go.

Mission

I miss the touch of you, the way you sway
Into my arms and will not let me go.
I miss the calming tones in which you say
You love me, and how you can let me know
Without your words. I miss how you will lie
Curled up with me in quiet on the bed,
And we can let the world just wander by;
No need for words: just breathing close instead,
Hearing no sound except each others hearts.
I miss how we can talk for hours too,
The joy each word I read of yours imparts,
And how you look at me: I just miss you.
But soon you'll be here, and I promise then
It will be just as good as it has been, again.

Community Day

I wonder what community can be
When what is uncommunal must intrude:
The constant inevitability
Of what cannot be shared can be imbued
With not too unsubstantial danger to
The central jointure. Are the bonds unshared
A further tether to keep shared ones true,
Or do they make the other ones impaired
By stealing their importance? Can we join
And stay still separate, and still survive?
Must a communion share a single coin,
Exchanging nothing else, to stay alive?
Or can it go beyond, in separate ways,
And yet endure within through common stays?

Coo

While some might say that it is too darn hot
I have no worries on that minor score
For I have seen this, seen it all before
And weather like this simply hits the spot.
Of course in heat what's dead begins to rot,
But we are living, and we should therefore
Celebrate the fact and let heat pour
Across our bodies gladly 'til we've got
All we can handle, and then float away
Upon a tide of warmth hidden within,
Such that we mold the heat from what it's been
Into a part of us, and so can say
The heat is not oppressive, but benign
Since I have sucked it in and made it mine.

Keepers

Had there been but an hour you were here
I would have felt the tremor in my heart
Alerting me of danger coming near
Until the time came for us two to part.
But you were absent, and I did not feel
That little warning flutter in my chest;
And so the night was somehow made less real,
So much that, really, I forget the rest.
I yearned to feel it, longed to be afraid,
But nothing came and, in a heavy haze,
I wandered lonelily and sadly made
My way back home. And yet I feel ablaze
Because when I unlocked my door, I found
You had snuck in without a single sound.

Freedom Heyday Freedom

It's best to catch your instinct ere it climbs
Beyond the bounds where you can call it back;
There it will find such freedom that, sometimes,
It will snap off its bonds and, when they're slack,
Sprint out into the world unmitigated
And do and do without more thought than so,
So that, even when tuckered out and sated,
It will not crawl back home and sleep, but go
Yet further out in search of more adventure
Freed from the rational and therefore wild;
It will enjoy the fruits of disindenture,
And will reject all hints of calm or mild.
But if you but restrain it at the start
It will curl up inside and warm your heart.

Mirage

The question in your mind is how sincere
My new contrition is of what I've done;
I think you cannot think that anyone
Could have remained in mind and conscience clear
Free from all doubt, and from its cousin fear,
Having at any point even begun
The things I did, and that such deeds must stun
Even the brave lest conscience disappear,
And so you think I must be honest. Yet,
A part of you would like to think regret
Would be more humble and less proud. In me,
Therefore, you see what you would most forget:
That true contrition need not always be
Attractive, or that consciences can flee.

Timewasting

I have not been the man I could have been;
The efforts I have poured into my soul
Have only let the putrefaction in
And stained my self as black as polished coal.
The very sins I would confess to you
My heart knows very well I will not end,
But rather in delight will continue
The reckless bankrupt way in which I spend
The hours that are left to me in thought
Not of the world and how to make it good,
Or of the blessings my life could have brought,
And if I had done wisely, which it would,
But of your welfare and my love alone
In selfish contemplation all my own.

Timewasting

I have not been the man I could have been;
The efforts I have poured into my soul
Have only let the putrefaction in
And stained my self as black as polished coal.
The very sins I would confess to you
My heart knows very well I will not end,
But rather in delight will continue
The reckless bankrupt way in which I spend
The hours that are left to me in thought
Not of the world and how to make it good,
Or of the blessings my life could have brought,
And if I had done wisely, which it would,
But of your welfare and my love alone
In selfish contemplation all my own.