ask me with your hands up... (valleyblossom) wrote,
ask me with your hands up...

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Waimanalo Sea Bird Blues

Birds cry overhead like violins seek the novelty of dissonance.

Waves roll to toed tips like gentle hands seek affirmation of submission.

Breezes blow through loose locks unlike the dreaded masterpieces, since chopped, since mourned...
seeking lessons not forgotten.

Birds, waves, breeze,
the audience passively chosen for this time spent
missing you.

Effortless they cry...
with pride plumped persistence they roll...
As certain as my breath they blow...

missing you
missing you

The dissonance humbles my stable footing,
my grounded solace.
The dissonance challenges me in its permeating valiant effort to
push me through these sounds of cries
my own
his and hers
these birds overhead
...there is strength in the sound,
strength in the unknown harmony sought,
coaxing me onward like an ancient rhythm of recognition.

Submission to letting go of all I desperately cling to.
The desperation a symptom, a symptom of my innermost fear magnified.
Submission to the Enigma, force, pull
proving to BE much bigger than WE
and resulting from the gentlest of hands rolling upon my soles, my soul, like these waves.
coaxing me in...
in to dive deeply as she crashes over my head surrounding me in sea foam with a force
threatening to knock me back
suck me down
until I submit and rise on the other side
TRUSTING the current.
Let it be
Let it lift me up and raise me forth to where we will breath.

Caught up in the midst of emotion, like a breeze passing through
over and over again...
As what I perceive to be a need,
shifts and shakes through me.
Through me, caressing my limbs
my skin
my ache
with the taste I sampled slowly
yet too too quick...
it lingers on my tongues novel tip...
It salts my sweat as it pours...
It flavors this fantastic search on my way to her.
Wanting only to be caught up.
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