My fingers, cold, untouched--
My heart, fueled by wild passions--
my mind, stoked by midnight madness--
my soul, singing, yet ever searching--
A heart, warm and patient,
counts the moments out in tear drops,
while the mind, vibrant and adrift,
counts the moments out in lifetimes of sorrow.
A soul, singing counterpoint to cymbals,
gently opens the melody,
while a hand, filled to fingertip,
gladly shares its bounty...
The patience of love kindles these cold fingers,
cradles the windswept breast,
and ignites the questions of the soul,
but leads to sweet, sweet comfort.
Two warm hands melt the ice
of distance, one large and strong,
the other, small and friendly...
together, holding tight
the promise of joy and happiness,
if only for a day.
Or a year. Or a lifetime.
Stone no more, my hand
reaches for yours, grasps
those outstretched fingers
in the embrace of life.
Warm, welcoming life.
I do not want to let go,
turn to stone, and weather
the tide's inevitable erosion.
But can I fight the forces
of nature?
Warm, welcoming life...
welcome to my life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
©LJ Grandstaff August 1999
Dedicated to a special friend...
who has guided me unfailingly to an even deeper understanding
of the capacity for love in the human soul, not the least of which is my own.