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Waxing Dreams Over the Horizon


I walk alone
When I’d rather not to
Over the vast expanse of the Bridge—
The Bridge in all its glory
Swaying in all directions
With the winds of time

Here I am
This tiny traveler
Occupying spaces and places
In the Hypersphere
Where you are not

Lush, emerald-aqua shades of color
Emanate from the ripply, translucent canvas
That undulates on the water below
Transporting one’s experience
Into the realm of the sublime

I sigh when realizing that
The arrow of time points forward
Meaning that what we once had
Belongs forever in the past.
Our view of it however
Can be made present

Is this timeless world a lie? I ask...
But you don’t answer
Or do you?

Everything that you were
Is all around me
And I am not afraid

The center of the Bridge bespeaks openness
And while looking up at the tower ahead
One’s sentiments expand and radiate outward
In all directions of the sphere
And one’s emotional well is replenished

The moment passes
But it made its imprint and impression

A flock of six seagulls
Flies down the other cable
Going where human visitors
Are not allowed to go

On windy days
Birds might hug the water down below
Flying in small circles in playful ways
Despite the cold
But today they can fly every which way
And traverse love’s warmth as well

A solitary dove
Flies crosswise, through
The vertical cables
Toward the sea
As if flying through
The strings of a harp
Played by a giant
Who's gone hiding in the hills
The strings are now silent
So the sojourning whales
Out in deep water
Will pass us by today

If the clouds were rolling in
They would surround us
Creating sensations of relative movement
Through flashing patches of cloud and sky
And it could be as if we were
Flying up high around this globe
Trading places in the pilot’s seat
Plotting our path, and our
Eventual landing at Chrissy’s

We’d walk home to number 801
While recounting our travels
Taking simple delight in
The adventures of the day

With more daylight still we could
Drive to the wharf for candlelight dinner
And catch a glimpse of the sun
Setting over Angel Island
While children made their last sandcastles
At the beach, near were we walked
During our first trip here

Communication is a funny thing
And meta-communication stranger still
Let’s let icons be icons, but
If words were deeds, then
This bridge would be the Grand Communicator of the Age
Linking North and South
As well as East and West, in a way
Sending packets of information on their way
Embodied in the minds of its visitors

By “doing” nothing, it ironically does so much
Transmitting the purpose of hundreds, if not thousands
Of designers, builders and maintainers

Its continual unfolding stands as a
Cornucopia of life’s treasures
The least we could do is
Smile at each other
In our dreams
To convey our thanks

The Bridge bends gently downward
Then the roadway curves back up again
And I make it to the other side
When I turn I see
The daytime moon
Floating above the tower on the hill
In the distance
Across the bay

It was there all along, I think
In its three-quarter phase
Quietly guarding the place where
We once stood
And I wonder why I didn’t see it
Till just now

When I turned the other way
I thought I saw you there
Right next to me
Where you used to be
In substance
And not just form

There you were
With your shy smile
Glancing downward
And reaching for my hand

I wish I could have really touched you—
Or maybe we did touch
In that flash of an instant
That was gone
Before it could be remembered

Sometimes I wonder
If I’ve lost my capacity to feel
And so to compensate
I fling out all the limbs
Of all my faculties remaining
Desperately hoping to find you

The air twirls around
And then is still
And then it seems to twirl again
And I wonder if
You’re trying to talk to me
From the near nether reaches
Of the unseen corners
Of these three dimensions

Your message hangs in the air
And I can almost receive it
And if that’s as close as we can be for now
I have no choice, really
But to accept that

When you left me
You didn’t really go
And I can never forget
How I felt
And how I feel

Driving home, on the long road
Over the delta
The low-angled sun shines brightly
In the outside mirror
And I wonder if its you

Its reflected light is all around
Creating spark-splashes
Amidst an overall golden hue
That colors my world
This day

I slowly ascend the small mountain
On my way back into the valley
Riding atop the low, hushed tones
Of the gears and the drivetrain
Letting my foot slightly off the gas
Because I’m in no hurry
Wanting to stay with you in this scene

There you are, with me
In the front car
Of the roller coaster
As we rise slowly up into the sky
The houses of the town below
Grow smaller
As if they’re part of a city layout
Used by kids playing with their
Toy cars
Those days are forever gone
But the feeling of it remains
And sometimes it feels
Just as strong

I guess you could say
That there is no involuntary servitude of the soul
There are those who might seize the body—
Or try to do such, with their weaponized words
But the mind wriggles free
And your soulmate remains such
Even if forever separated in physical space and physical time

But “forever” is a local term, not a global one
So on the whole, you could say, that
We are still together
For “now”...

Arriving home
The wobbly concrete staircase slabs
Remind me of how we used to
Walk up the stairs together—
Or how you walked up alone
With me waiting near the door
Or vice versa

Home is usually where the heart is
But my heart’s out there in the world
With you—
On some days, that is
Like today

You’ll never again
Come walking up those stairs
And that’s okay
Though regrettable
And I’m left here
Searching for Plato’s fiction

But as long as I can visit you
With words like these
I’d say that
Everything’s going to be okay
Everything will be okay

Thus one goes to the stars...







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