my angel gabriel

i'm pulled

like a leaf on a stream

to sudden flarings

whirlings

spindrift

they call me

speaking the soft language

using words without form or definition

and i'm absolutely powerless

to ignore them

no amount of experience

or knowledge

of the possible consequences

can deter me

i've always been excited

by possibilities

and incongruencies

by moments left lying around

by doors and windows left open

by the contents of

cupboards and drawers left ajar

by people unfinished

because each moment,

each possibility,

is tied by a slender thread

to the wholeness

and they cry

(so very like a newborn child)

to be held

nurtured

drawn closer

and then

- with the cutting of the cord -

someone

anyone

must lay bare the very real cord

that frees and contains in one experience

this being here in this place

this reason

this artifice

this dance of light and shadow

this awful leaving

this laying bare

and in the very best of all possible possibilities

the someone

the anyone

is a portal for love

the one love

that knows itself in opposition

and in symmetry

and in all the states in-between

*

this piece was written while listening to lamb - "gabriel"