I wrote this several years ago and just found it. A little poignant for a bright Saturday morning when the clouds are a hazy gray sketch on the horizon and the air smells of wood smoke and warming earth, but it's better than a kick in the head and I need to get going to Woodland Park for ham exams.
The first fire of discovery,
A meeting of electrons pulsing in the dark
Masks cast aside to reveal naked hunger,
A hunger born of need and creative explosions.
Tentative meetings scheduled in the dark,
Joyous discoveries of long buried dreams.
Fantasies wrought and carefully unearthed.
We are born together in a nova burst,
And now we exist turning and burning
on the spit of truth and lies.
We have only the connection of finding,
The truth of knowing,
The delight of recognition,
We are not alone.
Stolen moments out of time,
Minutes pregnant with possibility.
Hours tick by
silence by the joy of touching
voice to voice,
heart to heart.
Passions ignite,
spin out between us
forging a connection,
soul to souls’ desire,
but time is our master;
we can only steal moments,
small ticks of the clock,
infinite beats of the heart.
Stolen moments strung together
by desire,
by creative fire,
Circumstance defeats us,
forces us to be bold.
No subterfuge is complete without the thief.
I am the thief
stealing moments from the future
to hold fast in the now.
Stolen moments,
as precious as they are rare.
Will the end ever come?
Are we doomed to unending thievery,
holding only stolen moments?
That is all. Disperse and have fun.
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