POEM: You Can't Fall In Love (While You're Still Holding On)
The ghosts of a thousand beautiful women swirl with each step. Some I've known as a sip of whiskey Warm and intoxicating. Others like lit kerosine, burning my insides black as charcoal.
Most I just pass by on the street Their beauty as passing and fleeting as vapor.
A few have touched something deeper Have brushed my soul Have enjoyed the stubble on my face, laughter in our lungs, Being the only reason for being together, The press of mind on mind and soft body to body As if to extract soul from flesh.
How do you become one with another? This is the mystery I speak of.
There is an inestimable distance Between any two lives— Each composed of vastly different people, places, experiences.
To overcome the chasm separating two living mysteries unknown even to themselves;
You must let go.
Towards a Greater Love.