I want to know you –
Your typical morning habits
What you totally hate eating
What you actually mean when
You don’t say a word, or do
Little things that often go
Unnoticed, except when time
Stands still, but time is
Never on our side, so
Before it’s too late
I want to know you.
Category Archives: love
I want to know you –
Cooking is dangerous business –
In the process, one must face
The possibilities of being
Sliced by knives, splattered by oil
Even pierced by an unseen bone
Bloodied, blistered, and bruised
Yet we continue, without fear
For it is a miraculous sum of parts
And so is love.
Lead me to the
Depths of my soul, then
Undress it by layers till my
Purest form shows;
Protect it with the
Fortress of your might, then
Stay with me till the promise of
Arrest me with your eyes
For I’m guilty as charged
For the love I have raided
From the depths of your heart
Throw me in the prison
Of your tenderly warm arms
For I‘m guilty, yes I’m guilty
From the depths of my heart.
Found this little fella on the ground two Sundays ago and spent a glorious week together. Fly strong, and remember my windows are always open.
I’ll remember these
Quiet afternoons, precious
Warm snuggles of ours.
I flopped into the couch and sighed loudly. He looked up, amused. I sighed again and pouted.
“It’s so difficult being real.”
“Why is that?”
“There’s so much hatred and self-centeredness out there. There’s just no point. No one cares anymore.”
He closed the book.
“What do you propose to do then?”
“Oh I don’t know, maybe I’ll just not go out that much anymore. It’s all so tiring.”
“Listen. What do you hear right now, outside the window?”
If there were such a thing as squinting my ears, that was what I did right then.
“I don’t hear anything.”
It was then that I heard it. The quiet chirping of a bird. But it was so soft that I would not have noticed it.
“It’s a bird chirping.”
“That’s right. Now, listen again and tell me what you hear.”
This time, I was getting the hang of this little exercise.
“Ah, there’s another bird. No, wait actually there’re two more.”
The birds were sounding pretty lovely actually, sort of like they were having an animated conversation.
“You see, the first little bird was just chirping the way he knows how to. The way he should. That is his nature.”
“And at first, he was just chirping by himself. But then, you heard another one responding to him. And there was a third. And it all started sounding pretty amazing. It became a beautiful three-voice song.”
He looked at me, smiling.
“But here’s the thing. No one could hear him at first. And even when he could be heard, not everyone likes his song.”
“Still, he continued singing that melody, not changing it or replicating another bird’s tune, because that’s what he was made to sing.”
“He’s just being himself. He’s being real.”
“And look what happened: other birds came. They understood what he was singing and responded to him, and now they’re having a mighty fine session.”
“I think I know what you’re saying…”
He gave me a wink before reopening the book.