August 2000. Outward Bound Solo.  I too often need to be reminded that sometimes the long way ’round – is the short way home.

Quietly. Home.

Quietly,
Contemplating the maze that
Is emotional intercourse

Emotionally,
De-cluttering the depth from a height
In breathless solitude

Breathlessly,
Grasping to suck back the words
Of obsessive meanderings

Obsessively,
Discerning the succulence
Of passion, then and now

Passionately,
Engaging the crevasses
To the blackness of my soul,

Soulfully,
Returning home, for today
The joy in her song,
The warmth in her laugh,
The light of her eye
The art of her sway
I’m going home.

Artfully,
Navigating with calculation
the edges, Aching for quiet

Quiet

Quiet

Quiet

Quietly,
Contemplating the clear and copious simplicity
Of my obsession

Letting go the hold before it wanes,
The joy in her song,
The warmth in her laugh,
The light of her eye
The art of her sway

Stoic gratitude for temptations muted
By a song in the soul,
Hope,
Yesterday’s passion

Quietly

I’m going home. I’m going home.

Home.

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