When The Flowers Were God
It wasn't that long ago. A few weeks maybe less.
That a dear friend of mine stopped by for a rest.
He was pretty much the same as the last time
Still poorly dressed. But I liked him all the same.
He was tired from his journey so I suggested that
we visit on the morrow and would catch up on all the best.
I watched him sleeping, his body seemed so peaceful.
His eyes danced beneath their lids and muscles twitched
now and then. I remembered him from so long ago.
We were both so young and he was so fresh. I was in my
glory as well and both of us fell in love with trust.
I recalled the passing years and fondly remembered our
wonderful meetings and our exciting moments of clamorous
entreaties. I felt a warm glow fill me and knew how
much he loved me and how much I loved him. It is
truly wonderful to have such a good friend. I wasn't tired and seldom slept anyway and having him
here was such a treat and I was nearly beside myself with joy. I wondered if everyone had such a friend, a companion
I couldn't help but notice that he was aging and that
his skin proudly displayed the furrows of wisdom. We
were so young when we met. How incredibly blest that we
were to be able to share our love all these years.
I couldn't help myself and so I just let the tears
flow freely. I missed him and now he was here.
He had chosen a difficult path in life, to explore the
unknown. And even though he had now and then a wife
he most often traveled alone. I was his first love
and I know that I would always be his true love.
This was his home, if he had one. I spent the night
so much in love, so much alive, so much bliss
that I could have died and never missed a moment.
As morning drew near, I busied myself, picked up the
bits of yesterday and blotted the tears. I prepared
a place where we might go and share the wonder of
our years. I could go on and on about my love and
probably will. But stories have a way with time that
limits how much another endures.
I held him close in an embrace of love and bliss.
His arms, so strong, reached round me and while we
kissed, it seemed as though there could be no wrong.
I was his first love and he is my true love.
Together we make a wonderful union of honor and joy.
We spent the next few days in the garden laughing and
playing as only lovers can. Sharing our joys and passions.
Our hurts and compassions. Each night he fell asleep in
my arms. The days passed by so quickly. And then, when
he had rested I knew that he would have to go on.
I wanted to cry and say I would miss him but I knew that
I would never be able. His life and his mission were
of utmost importance and I could not suggest that he stay
for surely then he would die. We both knew this about him.
That's what made our love so strong. Able to endure the
reality and it's inevitable storms. For we are in union
the communion of all alive
I helped dress him before he set out. We together
shared the re-union and together our joy squashed
any doubt. We would be as always the lovers we
had always been. Even though I could not go with
him I know I was with him within. There would be no tears in his parting nor sorrow
in our dreams. He would always be my true love and I would always be here when he returned.
The day had come for his leaving, and he gathered his
bits. I watched him prepare for the journey and
helped him choose the way through the mist. We looked
into each other and saw the 'fire' of our love. Not just
a glowing ember but a fire so bright that we might
always know which way to our bliss. We never said good-bye and really couldn't even
if we tried for we were in union forever and never could that be denied. I watched him disappear into
the mist. He would return another day and together we would again drown in our bliss.
I liked this spot in the garden, the place where
we first met. Holy ground all hallowed, sacred
and heavenly blest. It was peaceful and so full
of memories that always brought me rest. Sure I would
miss him but then that's what makes our love so
grand. No matter where he might go, somewhere
inside him I would always stand.
He called me 'flower' and I called him man.