A poem I’d written in early 2017 in a time of teenage angst. It’s meant to be uplifting and was composed as a way to express my feelings of gratitude for having enjoyed something, someone, and someplace well.

I debated with myself whether this is something I wanted to share but didn’t really see any reason not to. I could keep it private, but I think in the absolute worst case, people will only think I’m a sappy fool (read: romantic) lol.


A Talk with One’s Other

I spoke to the universe for several starry nights, and then it departed

The feeling of loss still irked me; circumstance had separated us with boundless earth.

In mind’s eye, seated was me and another, a bizarre exchange between one and one who knows one best—my Other.

How do you feel? Reveal to me your heart’s longings and concerns

I hesitate, for what comes forth must be sincere and I shall tell it as so

At my tirade’s end, a seizure of soul from strange fits of passion I once thought lost, comes another question from the Other—

Do angels walk amongst us?

Surely—

Perhaps—

They don’t, somewhat dismayed

Their grace is confined to Heaven,

their illustrious wonder unknown and forbidden to us

How do you imagine them?

That is difficult, it really is

How so?

How might one fully capture the magnificence of a smile?

The magnetic allure of personality?

The communicability of laughter?

Indeed, I cannot put to words their majesty – nothing I may say is of sufficient justice

Try, said the Other (or perhaps it was just me)

I regretfully cannot even find the colors to describe their eyes—

Those soulful windows that betray deeper vastness,

An amalgam of pearly, wise snow and youthful sun. Irradiant

Irradiant eyes that possess colors that never stay still

Color that never stays still, what do you mean by that

Does the ocean ever stop roiling?

Stand still?

Abandon its mandate to caress the beach shore?

Is its shade the same here as it is off the West African coast, or perhaps some Fjord?

Is not the beach just parched desert, hills of sand rolling like dromedary humps?

The stars hung in the night sky, pitch black canvas with braided lamps?

Do you really want an answer then, an analogy that trumps all?

I daresay an angel would be very much like a universe, a chapter from a book I once knew.

Yes, I see it.

How foolish I was to not have admitted it earlier.

If only I had been honest.

The same sweetness and comfort, the same curl of the lips that makes a smile. The same empathy and warmth that defines disposition. The same quizzical look of bent brow.

May I ask a question then? That I may remedy this chance lost.

Is this “angel” not Olympus’ fire and I Prometheus who has come to taste enchanted flame?

Is this “universe” not an angel well-concealed in love’s disguise, my heart’s welcomed and self-inflicted demise?

No response from the other, this was expected — I’d finally understood.

No, you do not.

Allow me to provide you additional sound advice, lest you become adrift and seasonless

Carpe Diem.

Although opportunity was lost, the future sacrificed by a romantic’s woeful inaction.

The starry night comes once again.

Carpe Diem O Prometheus

For the universe remains to be admired, to be appreciated and cherished sweet.

Just as the universe moves on, so shall you. O Prometheus,

O Prometheus, satisfy yourself for great enjoyment has happened, and you enjoyed and loved it well, you have not lost and have only gained.