Across the Bridge

EverestI had seen things of beauty
Before you;
Before I loved you,
I’d been in love;
Before speaking to you,
I’d known silence;
Before I lost you,
I’d been lost and found;
Why is it, then, that
This separation,
Is not this of us in two,
But of me in two?
As if you’d been the frame
Which supported
All that was me – but clay
Crumbling, unusable now
So now all I can do
Is remember,
For, I know, I could never
I have burned more than bridges
Between us –
It was the me you knew
I destroyed,
So I wouldn’t run back to you,
That you open your heart
One more time
To someone, who did not
Have the wisdom
To tell the love
From a million loves

The Heart of the Piece

An incomprehensible puzzle
Before me,
A collection of bright jumbled pieces
With one missing –
The one in the middle –
The stolen heart
Of the now finished story
Where have winds carried you,
And abandoned?
Where have fires caught your
Paper wings?
Where have rains washed you of
The colours of life,
To which you were designed as the key?
So, like petals, I scatter the pieces
Of the puzzle;
My hands feed them
To the winter winds;
The same fires and rains which once
Burned you and drowned you,
May know all of you, and as for me
I believe, I would rather
Have nothing
Than have all but
The heart of the piece