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The Bending of Light

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In her last humane way of touching, that of a woman human in love, or more precise like some exotic silk scarf being dragged endlessly across submissive lips of someone very much in love, hers is a kind of veiled love that imprints upon the life of other lovers by stretching their heart into a bent posture of surrendering, this is the way of touching by my woman. My woman in search of a final midnight of chard submissions initiated by me the man who helped shape her glorious life.  Her love is one of those soft kinds of loves that surround the calling of warmth, warmth found only inside the trade winds of the soul or in those sacred moments where the art of the heart is passionately making love to you.

 Let go I heard her gentle whisper, let go of me and let the words of this earth crumble against the softness of my skin. Feed upon me all these romantic textures of my existence, feed upon what my life has become. Feed upon what’s left of me and then rise to the heights of those uncommon men who dare find a little of this femininity within themselves, those brave men and love hunters who threw endless coins into wells of hopeful wishing. Those same veterans of love who have fought bravely on enchanted fields and can never be called a coward because of their own falling tears. Rise up as a man she said; rise up and take your place in me.  And know this my love she said; long before men knew how to scribble naked woman on cave walls, before any sunset of shaded evening orange crashed into the earth’s dirt creating clouds of doubt, before my name was saturated in your ears and before your arms held tightly every one of my fantasies, you were being cultivated in the delicious depths of my inner soul. You, who lifted up the earth from upon me, then nestled a life inside my womb, fulfilling me with the experience of an incredible life that has overgrown inside me, and now whose posture has overrun me.

 Yes you who were inside of my breath inhaling me before heaven learn how to breathe. Your body and mine intertwined during the days and nights of this world’s Immaculate Conception. You who beveled off the prism edges of my heart and cut love so deep that the wound itself had enough depth for both of our lights to reside in. Let go once again she said; and let all of earth sunsets come to us these last moments of my life.  Let the suck of the kiss belong to the longing of only us. For truth be told of now and of old, we both know our love has already lived a life before and again. And after everything else without fear of falter it will I swear to you, continue to live in death. Let go of me now and allow me to show you how love can grow even after I’m gone. Your love must become my wave and my sea both crashing endlessly into this destiny.


Midnight struck with the passion of oblivion, the skin surfaces caught fire and we were melted hotter than the surface of any new and unstable sun. Human passion bent our hours into minutes and I knew this must be how it felt when gods made love.  This must be why solar systems become best friends, why universes everywhere refuse to end; and why moments like these had to begin; it was because gods and entities have been waiting for us to make love to each other one last time, in this one last glorious event of bending our human lights.  Here in this sphere of time where body heat can only escape into each other while we began reaching for the warmth of our affection I saw in your eyes the beginning of your dilatation toward death, and I could see in the glassy reflection of all the love you and I have submitted together in this world life was beginning to bow down and state our final goodbye to each other.

And just that suddenly I saw your time brutally begin to stop; I saw the burning of the clocks, light years finally came to its own natural conclusion. That light like our bodies and souls were meant to bend, meant to melt, meant to eventually lose to the endless darkness.  I was crying out to you to stay but I knew what part the clocks played in our lives. And so I told you that I love you, I told you of the many great things about you in my life as quickly as I could, because death is such a stalking bastard and in this very moment of our mad and passionate love he was taking you from me my wonderful sweet and soft gentle wife of life. In your eyes I could see death moving closer and closer so I did the same in an effort to fend him off. But he was too strong. He appeared like the cold empty fog of a comet with an icy trail that spreads across the vapors of endlessness emptiness filling your eyes. Just as your eyes and mouth took their final gulp of life while I stared inside of you as deep as I could, as I lay on top of you, as I tried to shelter you from this dark, he took you from me.  The dark bastard painted my life jet black and hollowed out any trace of human hope and fight from me. Yet still I continue to lay here on top of you hoping that my love for you or the heat generated by my broke open heart could generate one more burnt bit of life for you, maybe it would create one last miracle. But the miracle of life had ended with your departure, there would be no more miracles for me; there would be no more miracles for you.  We had just become just me, just as heat had began to dissipate into the icy atmosphere of comets. I felt the clocks approaching and I could feel time bending. Hurry home to the angels I whispered to you; hurry home my love and know that I don’t plan to be stranded here on this cold earth without you.

Death that evening came to her like some dark silky lie, soft and quieting and drifting over her eyes like some endlessly submissive unknown fingerprint removing her soul and history from this earth. Thinking to myself and looking up toward the heavens I made her a final promise, in another world, in another time, I promise to join you and live forever in the warmth of a place where clocks have no domain over our time. This is my eternal promise to you my love, my sweet, sweet forever wife.

That evening after death and the coroner took you away, I sat at the kitchen table never more alone than now and watched morning break into a brand new sunrise; I watched the birds on pink flowers of the cherry tree outside our window dance and sing as if nothing in the world had even changed.  I watched the couple across the street kissing each other goodbye in happiness as they headed off for another day in the life of the living. I felt the temperature in our house falling from as if from grace, I sat there knowing nothing and everything would never be the same. It was then I suddenly noticed the sunrise must have gotten stuck. I heard the street cleaner heading for our house cleaning off the remains of the coldest day of my life. As the street cleaner passed brushing away all the things in front of me everything suddenly became clear, the spinning brushes like the spinning clocks that must be stopped. I could clearly see that there was no reason to waste anymore time pretending to be still alive inside. Maybe outside of my skin there might be some resemblance of life although by now it was grey and pale, but inside I was clearly dead, and without you here with me dead was all I could ever hope to be. I believe that somehow you purposely stopped the sun on the horizon along the ridge of the day just long enough for me to hop off. You were answering my prayers of not having to be stranded here on this island called earth for very long. I understood your message and quickly got up and walked threw our house with vigor and began removing all the batteries from all the clocks. It’s was all about time I thought to myself, it’s all about stopping another day from rising without you, it was about controlling the clock instead of letting the clocks control us.

As my light began to fade in the residue of you and lose its glow in the recesses of this life well used, I heard your voice begin to gently whisper to me, hurry home to the angel’s honey, were all here waiting for you, hurry home. Here in this place where time dies and souls rise, life in its own abstract way began consuming warmth once again.

It is said that the love we give is the love we take with us.  I think it’s more that the love we receive becomes heavens key.    





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