I have always believed that we make our own choices, we have the sole owner of our lives yet each person we come across plays a role in our lives, however small or pivotal maybe. We might not realize or see the part that someone played in that moment but later when you look back and connect the dots it fits, they were there for reason,the tangential moments too mattered.
Lost In The Man
Years ago, when the heart was frail,
When ripe innocence had been pushed to the edge, and was withering,
Was swaying at the edge of the wuthering cliff, staring down, eyes brimming with silent tears of dread,
Or was the heart, already falling, clutching on to the ghost of the soul that stood there once,
It was then, that I saw a man, I saw his eyes,
He wasn’t of this world;
Eyes and lips speak tongues of their own,
Doors behind those blackened eyes were shut,
And yet I could see a soul in them, they spoke yet they said not a word,
In whispers howled the eyes stories afloat in the winds,
Revealing the allusion of silent secrets only heart shared with the mind,
The wholeness of his laughter, candid eyes that crinkled as they smiled,
An imprint, a memory, many a time casting a glow of hope over the shadows of my soul,
Days went by, and each glimpse tugged the heart,
The man, an image of a warrior of life,
Heart the curious master wondered of the words that decked those dense lashes,
When eyes met for fleeting moments, the soul flushed, blushed, glowered, aware of its captivation,
Time- life’s spindle, Years later I found him at the cross roads,
The eyes had deepened, blatant debauchery to my soul,
The smile frolic my senses to this day,
However as paths of eerie woods of my life lead me astray,
A few glimpses, few words, but not enough, only a peek into that intriguing mind,
As I lay on the cold marble, lost, reminiscing life’s addiction to amending itself each dwindling moment,
I wonder if he might trot on this path just a little longer,
A little longer could the spindle roll steady, our moments fading parallel to the others image,
Could destiny if real match my heart beat, only for a few more fleeting moments?
Then my life could brush past his, and I would be in his story, and he in mine.
And I might just tell you another story of him, a few years from now.