it comes to me in the morning

2003-09-15, 9:46 a.m.

that i am supremely happy, just short of what i have praised, just short of that idea i've held close for the last two years. you are bringing me close, like the man who leads his exhausted horse to water, part of me is just too tired to drink. stepping on night soil doesnt stop the crickets song, nothing short of a blast of light and a torrent of wind would end their orchestral tune. somehow i find the exhaustion to be familiar-the shoes with holes in the sole are still in my closet because they too are so familiar-and not quite welcome, but not pushed away either.

leaving your house is always like leaving school on the last day, you want to be there with all the people you care about but instead you go home and you wait for their calls. the songs say love can be lonely, the trees remember only what they have seen through their foliage, which is so much more than was writen by all the classic poets. how could one attempt to understand the trust given to a tree, that a thousand birds have given their trust to it; on their feet, and in their nestled homes, and with their baby chirps. who could know the stability of a tree who stands alone for a life time with firmly grounded roots. it does not vacation, it does not leave for the night because it has to sleep; it loves the grass and the worms that swim all around its heart of wood. steaming at noon, a sun could stare for a stars lifetime at the shade of its leaves, wonder how something could be so selfless to take on the spark of life to provide such comfort for a small plot of land; to hold the ground secure and to let a man rest against its trunk.

school is today, spanish. a concert tonight. will school boy call or will i wake up tommorow with the expectaions on my shoudlers once again, to be the carrier of messages. i hope that i can be wonderful to you kelly, i want to be more than perfect, but that leads to impossibilities, i guess i could just BE yours