the space

I greatly disagreed with a few friends today when I heard their answers to my survey. Such is how we think of love I suppose. But I will not follow. I do not.

Fog

Fog’s pushing in, ah—what was once sunshine with feathery clouds
drew up to be an indefinite lie,
a lie that sinks into my heart and initiates a soft pausing
beside me, my dear.

Wish for complete sunshine
but it can be so hot, but I won’t be alone,
keeping me filled with a sparkle of this nature
so I can go outside without being afraid.

And I won’t be afraid of this dreary street’s
complete grey and oh
won’t you walk with me?

Distance’s incommensurable length
holds us apart; can you really believe
that such thin air can be a barrier, my love?

I don’t know. It’s too far.
So many tell me it’s just hideous, it’s going to be a dream,
a lie, why don’t you hold onto people three feet away?

You’re telling me this world is too far away,
this love is a look away, but I can’t look,
isn’t love the same distance to reach? A feeling that
only once in while reaches inside, and you know it might work

How can that be closer than this distance
that doesn’t even hold back the stars?
This is touchable, it is within walking,
the body can fly as birds had. What is to tell you?

Love can be so much farther if it is not real.
Are you listening? The distance does not matter
because in soul we’re all together
as a force.

So go ahead and take each moment as moment,
each person by mere probability that they live three feet away,
until after so many three feet you will find her.
But I’m a dreamer, I dream of distances not to even be
and the sky my playground, the stars my shadow
and the clouds my bed, and I will dream of the day that this
form inside my head of my love will be filled with a
a sunshine smile and slight quarrel.

Surrounded by fog, or are those clouds?

It won’t be a lie.

mary