Common things– the simple good things of daily life – tell us we are human. We do not need addiction or thrill, surprise – that was a blindfold we tied ourselves. [First, we wanted easy, then slovenly, then dead or near it, inevitably. We were playing avoidance with the irresistible (grace) before we saw it and our senses breathed free.]
That is why I like learning your heart through your eyes, not the screen – but if we turn there, let us take our minds and stay awake to learn where ways and wants could take us, or did. Learn to wipe the eyes, un-blurring. Learn to feel the sore and sick, un-numbing. To see and feel, truly.
There is humanity in aristocratic sheet scandal, but I wish love was learned through common affairs, not making affairs common on popular British television. I will always see us better in your face, when our fingers interlock through its deep laughter or regret-filled tears. Real skin on a heartbeat on a soul that says we are human, in need and in love.
That is why I knit beside you, and learn to slow down by eating oranges the peel-pulled way that leaves that leprous citrine handfilm [a fitting process for strength and satisfied breathing] and enjoy turning worded, fibrous pages (they are a tree, pureed): tasting the font as I read to you and you slow your thoughts to add your vocal “yes” in a sweeter “hm” when the syllables unite the true and beautiful.
Glimpsing artistry in language and truth in the tangible is the sought-and-found treasure of embodied souls in this life story (the foreshadowing of Life most Real–); the story that says we are human, in need and in love.