The letter

 

Foundation of the piece.

A writer sending a love letter overseas to a love he has never met.

Do love letters still exist in the 21st Century?

Have you ever sent one?

The letter to Sophia 

Is it nearly midnight

My love

I can only hope those invisible tears aren't falling again 

As you dream of me

And making you numb

Is it supernaturally quiet there and do the streets beneath your darkened bedroom windows

Run empty and do all sinister shadows stand up straight 

Naked and bare

As you enter these narrative black gates

Does the seductive scent of a new escape with me from an old oblivion

Follow you everywhere

A new Heaven together 

Above an old Hell

A welcoming haven for us to hide within

Rolling like twin stones in its long sensuous green grass

Hiding from judgemental society within its long shadows

Except for the beating

Of your heart

And the vibrations of your breathing

Can you hear any other sounds

For I have seen you dreaming of me

In my sleep

Felt your beating heart and tasted the soft sounds of your breathing

Again and again

Do you still dream of us 

Been together 

We

Some class as forbidden

For we are wild untameable horses of obsession and yearnings

That needs to be experienced and ridden

Do you just crave a sweet taste of my red wine

With your soft red lips upon mine

Shall I whisper your name to the four winds and claim you in rhyme

Will you give me all I need

In time

For I know the sweet visceral taste of us embraced in fields of green

Will forever linger like a divine tasting honey

And our minds

Merged

Will cry out in elation

Reaching deep realms 

And keeps

So I just want to know

Will you send me something in return

As I wait inside these wrought iron old gates

In these so real lucid United Nations

For if you do

I will rush to you

In spirit 

Through all the falling raindrops

Like Paris to Helen

Caress your soul before all who stop to see

Touch you wantonly spiritually so you will never want leave

It’s what I believe when I close my eyes

Beyond the sacred old ruins of Gilgamesh

Beyond the grey skies of Emersha Amu

I just can't see you

With my eyes open

Only when dutifully closed

In prose

It's then I can truly worship 

And hope you feel my reverence

Touch you

As you caress my thoughts in rhymes 

For I need you

Like a moth to a flame

Like a living being

Needs a name

I am weak for you

My Goddess 

My eternal wisdom in the overgrowing darkness

Let me drown forever

Lost and spinning like Helicopter seeds

Tempestuously in your deep pools

Hypnotized forever within your dark eyes

As I stumble

From the stroke of midnight to early sunrise

As I wait for your letter

Let me feel your

Every drop of pain in words

Pain from old situations that still lingers and burns

So I purge them away with my own cleansing rain in return

For I am your own rain

For this purging rain has always been foretold

It has just lain with the old Crone in the deepest ancient unvisited woods

Waiting for the right moment to awaken and be understood 

Like now as we are finally ready

 

To enter that old wood

Listen

Do you hear that

Noise around you

It’s me just calling

For I can see you in my silver scrying mirror

Any time

Any place

In the middle of the day or night

Beseeching or taunting

Or just teasing with dark promises of unknown deep pleasures

Do not be afraid

Shy or inhibited 

For our ancient souls know

No set boundaries or red tape

No laws or treaties

No teachings

For we are untameable

Indomitable and wild

For we are truly free 

In here my child

You now know how to access my realms of In-Between

You now know where to go

Where I’ll meet you by these wrought iron old gates

In prose

This is our underground stream

A secret no one else knows 

Even when they dream

We’ll meet here ecstatically

In love letters

Like the blameless who are but truly pure

And we will lay underneath the indigo umbrella of the stanza falling rain

Expressing love with abandon in those new lands filled with no more pain

But tonight and tomorrow is but a long way away

Before you get my letter

So when you do

Do you still want to go beyond these wrought old iron gates to play

To lay blissfully under that indigo umbrella of expressions and get totally soaking wet

With lines and verbs

You will never forget 

To French kiss in deepest desire with literature and Walt Whitman

To relight new fires and put out old pyres

Before you get tired

And retire

If only I could carry your hand from your world into mine

But it only makes it sweeter

Only makes it more cherished

These delicious exchanges whilst we are apart

For we are just living masterpieces using written metaphors as our communication

As our refound old art

I know your heart may still be ravenous

Your mouth still parched

Thirsty

Your arms may be empty and forever still 

Reaching 

But my Goddess 

I have you to myself every night in those mysterious dark swirling isles

I receive

Just through those wr! ught iron old gates of verbs

You send

In lands where we will lay

Underneath that indigo umbrella

Where it always 

Always

Still rains just Love

Whatever the outcome

And hopefully 

We no longer feel numb

Whatever may come

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

 John Duffy