i will arise

there is the heavy storm that is stress. but it does not approach with dark clouds and thunder- it is continuous downpour. incessant gray. bleak and colorless horizons if any at all. but sometimes- just for a moment, a cloud breathes in and there is a pause. we begin to see things again.

the way the setting sun reddens the tops of the dull winter trees. the poetic motion of a bird in flight- suspended middair- by chance in time with the music. the way your memory burns my heart. the way honey sticks oh so sweetly to my lips as i lick sticky fingers, the taste as awkward and delightful as an unexpected kiss. and i can remember things again... and the memory burns the way the heat of the midday sun feels against my skin- so pleasantly warm and so delicately painful.

and with the sigh of a cloudshift the moment is gone. you are gone. and i can only remember the memory. but now even the gray is seen in different shades.