Sunday, January 28, 2007

Form Follows Function

Will you be there?
In the endless darkness
When the raw edges of my soul
creep from under their thin protection
From the veneer of strength
the determination that gets one through a day

Will you be there?
when, uncalled,
unable to keep it locked inside any longer
my soul reaches out into the space around me
for warmth, solidity
to both give and receive comfort

Form follows function
It is an infinitely precious space
a priceless gift to share it
a kind of Trust
that can be garnered no other way
something... delicate
unfurls in the endless hours of the night
when dreams creep and soar and stalk
when fears and fantasies
vie to play the stage

But will you be there?
In the hours of day
One can argue
that it should make no difference
that close.. and love.. and trust
should care not a whit
at what degree Sol sits

But I'm there,
in that endless darkness with myself
where honesty takes a different sort of tumble
where the adult
can acknowledge the child inside
the piece of self that never grows up
cradle it, nurture it
soothe its fears
There are things left in the dark
and there are corners deep enough to get lost in
Dark corners that hold things
Far less pleasant than warm lips
things that if they capture you alone
can suck your soul dry

I'm there,
and in the darkness around me
I know the difference
as those raw edges of self reach for warmth
the difference
between feeling it there
soul borrowing flesh and finding solidity
hand touching warmth
legs intertwining
shift of space, respoon
Embers of desire glowing in the ash
that could be fanned to flame and fire
that could burn away the dark
a little while longer
Argue in Sol's illumination what you will -
I know
the difference between those miracles
and finding in that dark only... nothing
of an aching silence

You know it too --
You know:
Function follows form.
With nothing there to keep it
No warm breath to whisper
in its inhale exhale rhythm
Hope drains out into the night
like tears in a wilderness
unseen unknown unheard
Soon I will be as empty
as the space around me.
A target for the things that
wait in the dark
and We will be a dry wisp
a husk, a hull discarded
holding only fragile memory
no protection at all

in fact,
holds its own sort of blade
can slice the heart that holds it
often it is memory itself
that hides in that endless darkness
with malicious intent

Function follows form
Form follows function
Circuitous pattern:
What to be
Who to be
and How
and there... there is an intimate path
to places in our souls
that can be reached no other way
Will you be there?
Or do I walk those particular
oh, so private paths
face the darkness
yet again, once more even more


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