(Chock full of poetry, this one…just not my own…)
This is from Her, regarding my hide-and-seek behavior with Her over the last year and a half and reuniting with Her online last night, then trying to weasel out of the situation once again this morning:
Too late My dear, no more goodbye
It is time to recover consciousness
Time to face what has to be faced
My time is running through my fingers
Nope. Not again
We can’t consider Yesterday
Only an occasional re-encounter.
You were looking at my photos
I was writing the poem to you
Asking for a signal from above
To guide me about what to do
With the Poem
Then I saw the 22 comments
You posted on my photos.
I blinked my eyes: Oh could it be true?
Are you there? I could not Believe…
I laughed aloud and alone…
You were there…
Oh I am very sorry, lady!
Nope and nope
Love you Soul and Heart
You can leave your computer off,
You can make yourself not visible
I will know that you will be there
I always will know,
No more hiding from these feelings. No more putting them aside to have the perfect life. When one of Us is missing the other, We both are affected. She was missing me, writing another poem about Us after months of silence between Us. While She wondered, “What should I do with this poem? Send it to her, or keep silent?”, I was hovering over Her in cyberspace, inserting comments on photos She had posted of Her new apartment, a quarter of the way across the planet from me.
Synchronicity. It happens between Us as if We are One. I have talked about my relationship as an affair, and it sure fits the definition. But what accounts for how tuned in to the Other that We are?
I have been away from my home for a week. Reality easily slips through my logical mind, blurring the details, the major details that I am going home to in two days.
Can I juggle two relationships? One functional and the other divine?
I always resonated with this poem. Since my senior year in high school, it has been embedded in my soul. I leave you with it tonight:
The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost
[Please tell me you have at least heard of this poem…]
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.