Finally,

     Out of breath

            at the top of the mountain, what a view! Well deserved rest

after years of slippery upward

                                         vine-grabbing vertical climbing

 

There

    comfortably seated on moss covered stones,

                     near a lovely cascading musical waterfall sighing

              the ancient sage studies me intensely and asks

                           In a very soft still voice whispering

 

If

I am ready to face

                            at last

                   perhaps the final hurdle un-adhering:

 

                                                      My abandoned TRUTH? 

                                           the Sacred Dream of my YOUTH?

 

For

   I’ve reached journey’s end now

      

     There’s no where to go

                          but back down

& live a contented quiet life in the sun-filled valley

where hats gather dust high on the shelf, & closeted coats stay not near the doors for                 no needed easy access adventure to be had,                             no one here wears coats anyhow!

 

                                                   even if I bed each night just with me

      there’s plenty of little joy everywhere, & beauty

Smiles, & kindness, & art, & greenery

             People cherish growing things here as do I, 

                                      fit right in, cherishing, creative aimlessness-ing, as I do

                                                      &  winged ones at my balcony!

 

I kneel before the water:

 

“Yes, Grandfather, I am ready, I listen & obey

   I have solved the riddle, my abandoned truth,

                             after years of pondering, walking, climbing:

 

                            I believed

                            True Love

                                             would find me”

 

I did. I thought. I sought more.

Equal, pure, inspiring; my one; love would find me because it was deeply deserved. It did not. 

 

An honorable, admirable man, proud of me so close by his side,   not 

             boastful of ownership or transactional;

                    not threatened by countless usurpers

                                   but trusting

                         recognizing fidelity, fellowship. No, they did not, none.

 

Fooled, I did find Dostoevsky’s other love

                                         but not my heart’s.

                                                    I gave up my sacred truth-dream without noticing, no time

 

Later, a young man with long hair shared & gave it back me, rekindled flames

     It is still a sweet dream, even if he doesn’t dream it with me

                                                                                                             anymore

he said he did once but words are just words I have come to know, better if they rhyme

 

these do not, a small act of unconformity, nor are they capitalized. so ha. redo it then

 

YES

Grandfather whispers

You have been gifted a great gift, 

                        for your courage, your nonconfirmity, you have won back your dream

 

and then 

        at that hour when the light is so beautiful it almost hurts to breathe, he flies away

 

I think of that, as these,

                 These are my blue days of the deep Pacific

                                                                   darkening deep purple as true night might deem