The Book of Hope: Love

Even more than I wish to see the lights
once more, across the old skyline
of New York City, which is a place I recall,
long ago, and more than I wish
to stand in one of the ancient cities
or to see The Ruins or Rome,
or more than I have it in my heart
to see the sun go down
somewhere along the coast of Italy,
and even more than I desire the dreams I have
of seeing a place called La Isla Espiritu Santo,
which is somewhere in my dreams
and beyond my hopes that I might see these things;
above all, are my hopes and the desire
that I might find my way to see the simplest things.

I want the simple things, like, say,
to witness the fruition of my dreams
or the culmination of all that I’ve dreamt or wished,
and in the sanctity of my heart,
or in the rush to find at least a semblance of salvation,
my hope is that I find the sacredness
or understand the value of my own sacrifices
and realize that yes,
all has happened for a reason
and to each moment that took place
came with a purpose, and with every purpose
comes a new proposition of possibilities.

And that’s all I want –
the possibility to evolve to a point
where I can lay the past to the ground
or if at all possible,
I can remove the cobwebs of my catastrophes
and stand in the serenity of my personal resurrection
and then . . .
I can realize that yes, this too did pass
and that yes, I did survive.

I adapted and I overcame, and more,
I fully believe that even though a day will come
and there are times when hearts are crushed
(and there were times),
and I assume there will be hard times again;
I know that I can say that although I walk
through the darkest valleys
or in the faces or the different shadows of death;
I will fear no evil
because you are with me,
and for always.

Though I will face times of challenge
or even moments of judgment or persecution,
I have no shame nor worries
of external convictions because
deep down, I know that your life
and the feel of your hand in mine
shall comfort me.

And yes, I shall walk beside you
here and now and even in the Kingdom of Heaven,
for thou are my dream, and my spirit,
and thou are my purpose
and my reason and dare I say;
although I am only a man,
imperfect as ever and faulty,
or flawed, unsound, or crazy – as in mad or certifiable,
and although I am the sum
of my mass insecurities and past mistakes
and poor decisions,
I know that on the day that alas,
my dreams come true,
I will have flown around the world
and traveled a million miles,
only to come back here, to you,
to where I began, or to where we began,
and hence, I will have realized
that countless miles and travels were not wasted
but instead, this is all proof to me
that where I was and where I have been
are the reasons why I am here now,
with you.

Or wait . . .
Better than the way the ocean feels
during a plunge in the bay
or at a place of seclusion
where the waters are calm or nearly still;
and better than the feelings which come
when the San Gennaro feast comes
to the downtown scene, and more than
the romance I feel when I see your eyes
in the dim lights of some Italian Restaurant
near Irving Place on 18th
or more than a late night rendezvous,
and even beyond the feel
which overwhelms me when, at last,
I can feel the favor of your skin
as our bodies engage
are the memories that I have
and the ones I want to create.

More than anything,
and more than the wealth of money in the bank
or jewels on our finger, or around our wrist,
or more than the sparkle from the diamonds
that pin to your ears is the brightness
which comes over me
when you walk into the room.

I swear this.
And more than the first time I laid eyes on you,
or when I pushed my way to you,
and more than my incessant need to touch you,
even though you resisted,
or more than the drive I had to taste
or to feel you, and more than what it took
for me to kiss you, and never stop,
is the significance of the very moment
when I first saw your face
when the door opened
—and I fell in love.

It is a hard truth and often sad
when we run and we chase
and we look for everything we want,
when meanwhile,
everything we are and everything we need,
or all the things we need or want are all here,
right in front of us,
and they always have been too.

More than the love in my heart
or the desire in my chest
or the feeling I get when I see you or touch you,
and more than my desire to kiss you or to make love,
or lastly, more than the need I have
to lay around and watch old movies from our youth
or to find us somewhere,
drifting away in some dream and, of course,
more than I have the need to make you think
or laugh and feel
is the need to be the best lover
and explosive in the sense
that it only takes one touch, and immediately,
your body quakes like the ground
and you shake or quiver
because at the moment,
the lights could go out and the world could flush away,
and neither you nor I would care
or notice the rains or the storms
because nothing in the world
could ever take me away or distract me
from the way it feels
to hold you in my arms,

I am, as I said, a man of imperfections.
I am, as I have admitted, a person who is flawed
or somewhat lost
as a result of what I’ve been told
or as I have been previously labeled
with these things
which, as I am told are called a chemical imbalance,
or due to the nature of these things,
which I call anxiety or depression,
or namely me
or regardless of the above
and no matter who
or whatever I am—more than anything,
I am humble before you.

I am on one knee and more than anything else,
I am simply one person
who serves this world as best as I can
and with the best of my ability
and with all of my heart,
I am simply one person
who wants to go, be and do,
and to explore, or to see the world,
or to feel what it’s like to wake up beside you
or to wake early on a winter’s morning
with snow on the ground
and aside from the wind blowing outside,
the bedroom is warm and dim
and the only other thing I’d want to hear
is the sound of your breath
or the sound of your voice
as you whisper in my ear.

More than anything, I want this . . .
more than anything else in the world,
this is all I’ve ever hoped for.

This is not about beauty.
This is not about surviving the loneliness
or the escape of an otherwise vacant life,
and this is not about a settlement or a trade
or anything that is lacking
or anything that would somehow cheapen or degrade
the feelings I have of you; but more,
this is about the hope I have
which goes back to the very first poem
I ever wrote:

If I listen, I can hear you in my thoughts
And if I look, I can see you in my dreams
or on the movie screens
behind the walls of my eyelids
(when I dream)
But with all of my heart,
I hope that one day soon –

I will hold you in my arms

Forever~

I’ve waited my whole life for this to come true.
I just thought you should know that.