I couldn’t converse with you. We exchanged words. Mine hit your wall, then bounced back at me, without the bounce. More like a brick that went nowhere, suspended in mid air. There was nothing supple or subtle about it. We both ignored it,avoided it; the words went your way but didn’t land anywhere inside of you, rather, you blocked them, and they looked at me huntingly to accept them home.  So I did.

They weren’t hidden. You heard them. They were hanging there. We saw them. I repeated them ~ their message in many ways with different words, synonyms and homonyms, to reach you somewhere deep within. But you didn’t validate the existence of that message, its method, this approach at understanding. My communication to you ~ it just went dead as you chose it to.

I lifted myself from your pillow, you laid your head down to rest, to start to sleep immediately so you wouldn’t have to answer the quest in my voice that was seeking an exchange. You feigned sleep to say it was peace you wanted, now at this early time of night.

I resisted you for a moment, not a long time. Only for a moment, till I rose from under the stuffy stifling blanket and cleansed my head to the greater space. I left you there, to sleep. I combed my hair and went upstairs, to open the skylight window in the loft.

The sky was black and starlit with its brilliance. I said I love you without a word. The crickets chirped. It calmed my nerves. The cat snoozed on the meditation pillow. Welcome. There was a picture of a guru on the chest of drawers, and a raku angel, along with the cross from my father’s coffin. A plastic square box of rose petals and a tiny photo of Paramhansa Yogananda. The fig tree leaned towards the skylight, seeking moonlight. It was right to ask for this kind of love. The universe, receptive it was. I looked to the star in my mind’s eye and it answered that this is the night lit with peace. The cushion on which I lay my head is the same as the clouds in the sky that I cannot see in the dark of this night. Faith, it said, the wise star in my head. Forget the world and all that’s in it. Tonight, like every, I find myself removed from the news of a world that hears me not, and puts up blocks. It whines of sympathy for its immaturity.

Give me the sky! I cry to whoever and all who are high. The wise, the mighty, who create the light and that oh, so wondrous, magnificent night. I see the wise ones in the moon and swoon ~ to be with them.

I should have such a romantic heart for my sleeping man who tears me apart ~ wanting bits of wit to get more for the heck of it, without true grit. I don’t want to avoid the world…let’s just even the score. Let me leave here now, so I don’t have to explore this realm of non-sanity. How do I live when the world spins with simple tease and drugged drudgery? Dear friends, will you not stop sleeping long enough to witness me flying away? Wanting to be absent, so I can be free.

Through the skylight window, as I sit and rock the wooden chair, I don’t find you there. You don’t converse after nine o’clock. That’s when you close the door and stop. You hide away in your hideaway. Eyes shut.

I’m not sad that I don’t reach you. I’m not dismal that this is what there is between us. Slight ~ vaguely effectives. I give all I have to give to an open or closed blossom, for it to soak up the dew of antiquity, what wise ones see. I see within you. Possibility. It entices me to want to see if I can revive the ancient you. Yet when I think I’ve unlatched a door, you come out no more. Revert to common ways, the ones you learned since you were born. How undisciplined you became, even with your father’s discipline and your mother’s witness.

I’ll take no time to stoke a fire that doesn’t burn. I’m here to learn. I leave this karma here to clear. I leave this understanding of lack of understanding. I leave these words that could not be heard with ears that didn’t hear. Lay your head on your pillow and take in sleep. There is no vitality in that dreamworld for me. I want the noise of the Great Silence at my door. For him to speak to me.