A Spilling of Stars

After awhile
we learn to take love
 into our own hands, don’t we?
Sooner or later we cease
foisting the responsibility for our fulfillment
onto another.
Having been fooled time and again
 by the fickleness of lust,
the passing of passion, the fears of each others failures,
we return to the reliable and uncomplicated
solitary satisfaction; the knowing that we are forever really alone.
And that there are secrets that only our aloneness can hold.
Love is always,
and forever filled with complexity,
constantly changing gowns and masks
and demanding a transformation from us.
Love alternates between whisper and scream,
Come up higher .
 And we release each other from the
 impossible bondage of expectation.
What is as familiar or as safe as our own fingers?
What else can contain the spilling of stars
from our personal galaxy...without risk?
Nothing quite like our own soft palm.
 

Reviews

[Alicante lullaby]

Both Es are so right,
your style is fascinating,though the concept introduces a sense of loneliness,
nothing quite like our own soft palm,
fickleness of lust,impossible bondage of expectation,,,
your terms used show the sheer sense of frustration,,,a very witty and powerful write,,,yet,i hope its not that true always,,,,

[J.P. Bristow]

-Though the structure prose this read like a wonderful journal entry---flowing from thought to thought---word to word.....

the cheeky line "Nothing like our own soft palm"
speaking of one ...who knows themselves well.

[Emily B]

I would hope that you see plenty of comments on a writing as worthy as this . . . Ed always seems to find the best stuff

[Ed Hart]

I can't believe fifty six people stopped by here and didn't at least leave a word of recognition...this knowledge was not cheaply bought...it's good for the world to have a few grown ups wander around...Ed