Milano

The evening comes, and I think of you.
And the morning, and the afternoon, and the night- for
I shared it all with you.

I feel your absence in the bleached asphalt,
My feet treading over spaces alone and
I feel your absence in the cloudless sky-
You are not here to see it with me.
I feel your absence in every meal;
I prepare them alone with little thought
And I feel your absence in the sheets
Of night, which had become our haven.

My heart opens and blossoms, my heart
Expands and moves like the shifting
Tides and my heart asks me questions
That I must answer with utmost honesty.
My heart beckons and I follow without
Hesitation. Yet where it often leads
I find I am alone and wandering.
I am wandering and wondering whether
It will ever settle down, if there
Is a place I might feel safely at home.

My heart moves forward, emanating all emotion
And my heart comprehends the hollow wood that
I encounter along the road. I walk across
This world and feel the stretching of dusty
Wings; They encompass the span of the backroads
And hidden places where I am sure to
Find what.
Find what and then fly.

The Follies of a Traveling Mind

Tides will flow up the beach, down the beach
Into your [sub]conscious wanderings
As I try to grasp a piece of the pages
I once wrote, about myself, and in
Another land while I waited to learn the truth.
We take our time in recognizing the destructive
Realities of distance; we drift into ourselves.
I am sitting and waiting, and you are saying
You have been waiting, you have been thinking
This whole time and even
Somehow after retraction of the determined avoidance
We might stand a moment in the streets and see
Some other side of ourselves, yet to be revealed.
I pass a troubled glance into your eyes;
It is a test and I blush at the thought;
What have we come upon in our deliberate aimless wanderings-
We truly are the restless and the
Ever unsettled travelers of this world.

I am dancing in the night upon freshly paved
Streets and shouting like it's a new year and
A new revolution; we live like we want to.
And you are wading through third world wonders,
Counting the possible ways in which you might
Find humor in our circular stepping dances
Or what moment might be right to do something
About what is in your heart.
I kiss the petals of roses and send them
In bottles across oceans to the
Other side of nowhere, in a river where you
Might find them and know that I am
Wandering our homeland in search of something
I found a few weeks ago. (And yet I search)
I was blind to the ways in which we
Might actualize ourselves and materialize
Here where we are from and there we might
Have meetings in secret under roofs you
Built with your hands and our feet have touched
The same soils a thousand of thousand miles away.
Because we have passed through the same space
At the same times, because the world spun at
Exactly the right angle and you followed
Your path, and I followed mine, we
Somehow met halfway, in the middle, somewhere
We never expected.

There is never enough time-
All we have is time.

As if I could capture the smallest piece
Of that memory and save it for later,
Only measures of time between where we were
And where we are going;
There is greatness to be discovered.