{poem + story} always, entirely.

i fall into dreams
rarely jasmine, never still
fabrics, often silk

sometimes perhaps seemingly incomplete
like the petals of a fuchsia rose
scenting the cobblestone streets

nights and days
aromas, lean against my skin
soul of a rose, scenting the inner wildlands

and i fall into a love entirely
always, fall in love entirely

A little more:

Tell me, do you know when water actually begins?

Is it vapour, snow, rivers, rainlife?

Have you witnessed water *actually* begin?

Like when you turn on the faucet, or when a pipe bursts in the kitchen?

Sometimes it is when we accidentally stumble upon a rock in the garden; only to then push it or lift it, and clean water springs from the earth we once may have thought was dry.

It’s pure. True. 

It’s perfect.

And it’s as if we’ve opened the desert.

It’s no ordinary magic – seeing the leading edge from which things flow to fill us. It’s wild things, natural things, secret things. It all becomes the ultimate intimate act. Perhaps sometimes we’re even tempted to crawl on our bellies searching for such secrets, looking for such purity.

Or does it all begin somewhere in the seas beyond skies? Where souls twin like the words and dreams from our childhood diaries.

Secret threads like the ones that bind the pages of a book. Secret threads like the ones that run along the silk of a summer’s dress. Some threads are invisible … from a time before time beyond time. Like a soul song of love, no beginning and no end, threads knotted from long long ago, and with ancient voices calling us towards one another. We have no other choice than to follow it. Until we are finally in the arms of the one we were made for. 

A petal is a rose, mud is a rose, hand is of heart, and heart is a God, just like a wave is a sea. And like water, lovers may not know the exact moment when love begins, but they certainly know it has begun.