Flyspot Lullaby

"These things are done simply. They live in those moments of the day, the ones which speak with boisterous silence, the words we both know."

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In the waking world of the morning, I do not know all of that which seethes in the burgeoning gale of your mind.  As the winds stir up, I feel it though.  Mind you nothing of this, for it is a willing thing because of my love for you. I do not ask, nor do I wish for all to be revealed.  It is of regard, but not vital.

One only knows that you only need to recline into me and I will hold you for seconds, or an eternity . . . even an eternity wrapped into seconds.  It does not matter. 

I would take the seethings from you upon myself, were it possible and purposed.  You are too beautiful to me to suffer in any form, Still I gladly share the link that empathy provides, because I may do nothing else in my house far away.

You guard against letting it go, against letting the tide wash over you, over us.  You know if the waves are unfettered, even for a moment, they might wash us to places from which you may be late on the returning . . . scurrying backward, until the clock screams that it is late. 

I understand these things and take your hand, still.   Simply to say "yes" to yes . . . to the little girl that lives in you, The one who smiles, gets scared, and knows nothing of the woman you are, and how you protect her from the waves that wash away, leaving her bare.  I cradle that little one behind my closed eyes, in safe rooms, whether you are aware of it, or not.

These things are done simply.  They live in those moments of the day, the ones which speak with boisterous silence, the words we both know.

That thread? The bare, clinging string that holds it all at bay? It swings on a pendulous course, neither good nor bad.  It exists because you wish it, and that is enough for me. 

Yet, never forget in the moments of fever-pitch swirling that I love you.  Granted, this alone is not a treasure, nor am I a great woman.  Nevertheless, if being loved unconditionally is at all a laudable thing, you are to be commended.  I love you in this way and so many others. 

Throughout timespace and many oceans, it has been as such, and will be until Existence destroys even the Nothing.

-Gypsy

For J.M.J.P.  -- My Muse, The Moon that Warms My Heart, and Companion of Many Lifetimes.  ©2014 Melissa Alexander, Gypsy, The Gypsy Shadow http://thegypsyshadow.blogspot.com/2014/12/for-piglet-in-waking-world-of-morning-i.html