I never thought that the stroke of my luck would come in the sharpness of my words stabbing into others minds. I have been told all my life that I had a gift to gab but more often than not, I never thought anything about it. Words were the pillows of my thoughts, dreams, hopes and the rest of me. I never thought anything of it.
Today I speak, I look at others in the eyes when I allow the harmonies of each consonant and vowel fall from the markers on my mouths anxious release. I keep on speaking, I keep on thinking about what is was that I have to say, what it is that I need to say. I have to clear the weight off my chest and let the others know that I am here to provoke them and myself. I am never shy to talk or perform. The nervous jitters that mark your skin before you go on to the world stage seem to fade when I let go of the fear of what others think. I think. This was not about them, this was about me and my endless journey towards finding the highest creativity.
When I sleep beside her at night I have no words. I sit up and I look at her and I am speechless. I touch her and instead of feeling momentum, I feel still in the care of her tenderness. She teaches me with something new each day without always pressing her words. When I get greedy of her she reminds me to let her be free and grow so that she can return to me willingly. We speak in body language in moments when our desires overcome the rationalism of expression, no matter how verbose and articulate the diction.
She tells me "I desire every touch of your fingers on my pale skin. It fills me. I want to die in your arms." All of a sudden I seem to gain back words with a question in mind: could this be the beginning of a great unconditional love? Marc Antony and Cleopatra, I know how they must have felt. There is nothing discreet when your heart has nothing left to do but sing the gospel of loves tail.
