I miss talking to you.
I miss the laughs we used to have.
I miss the sound of your voice.
Sometimes it overwhelms me.

When this happens
I try to remember
that I was not meant to love you,
that the lies hurt
that if friendship truly existed
I would not have lost it.
Sometimes it helps.

True friends are never lost
True love never dies
Lies can not hide truth
The heart and soul seek truth
Seek with your heart for to know truth
To know truth is to know thyself

A true warrior does not lie
As lies like spears pierce his heart and soul
And his heart and soul are bared to the world
Inside he cries
His tears he ne'er bares
As the pain is too deep

And God gave us one life
And with this one life He gives us choice
And with choice we seek happiness
We seek love, we seek truth, we seek comfort
To love God is to love oneself
Love is God, love is truth

Remember the old man who as boy looked up at the sun.
Remember Joe.
Remember laughter.
Remember Tadhg.
Deoir!

Sometimes we don't know what reality is.
Sometimes you swear you know and believe it
only to find your still lost.
I'm not lost my friend, I've only lost you.
And that is a nightmare that has consumed me
everyday of my life. Typing here and reading
your words is my torture, never talking to you
again, never to hear your laughter.
Maybe I am lost....either way it's a cold life
without you.

And I miss you, too.
I miss your voice, I look sometimes I see you, but you are not there. I wish I could hear your voice, hear your laughter. Sometimes I cry. I am lost too, without you.

How do I know that it is you.
That what you say is true
How do you know that it is I
you who made me cry

I grieved for the lack of an explanation
for the cutting of a tie so suddenly.

How can I know it is you that feels this way or have I stumbled across another soul who bleeds as well.

Send an email already....then you'll know.

And you as well, email me so I may know for certain that I know it is you too I am conversing with. The clues I left in my poem should show who we each are. We need to be certain.

You speak of love
why can it not be.
Why the torture, the tears...

I wish I knew the answers.
I wish I could change everything.
I speak of love, what else is there in life.
What is life with out love, without understanding, without compassion.

I have sent emails to whom I think I am conversing with for months on end.
I await replies. Only if there were another way.
Here, our words are open to scrutinity, open to the world.

I do not wish to be the cause of anguish or torture, only truth and understanding.

Perhaps we each are "bleeding souls" each "bleeding" for someone else, and here "bleeding" for illusions and mistaken identities.

mo chroi fuiliu, mo anam deoir. Ta'm caillte gan a chara!

I wrote the first letter. I missed my champion.

Beannacht

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the gray window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colors
indigo, red, green
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the curach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours
may the clarity of light be yours
may the fluency of the ocean be yours
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

from "Anam Cara"

......for all of us.

who IS this masked woman and all her guests? *smile*

I felt I'd stumbled upon something I shouldn't have! A little too personal, maybe? :)

Why did you choose to wipe your feet on my heart like a doormat? It's so badly bruised, and can only beat 1/4 time now, and fears all who come anywhere near. My heart use to shine brightly and radiate, now it is cold, dull, and grey like a lump of putty. I am distrusting and cynical now.

I adored and cared for you with the courage of a lion and the gentleness of a lamb, but you made a choice; to forego all that was offered. There was much that could have been won, and true love was the very greatest of these things.