She Waits For Me on the Other Side of an Informational Sea

She posted a quote by Charlie Chaplin that read something like,

"Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul." I couldn't have agreed more. Not that a younger me would have been able to look past that mischievously alluring smile and fire engine red hair and seen someone who represented the fire of life in more than just physical qualities, guess I was learning after all.

I remember when meeting online used to be taboo.

Now, it was one of the only thrills I could conceive of

the best way to get my fix, when reality bit the big one.

Back to this scarlet haired beauty..her words were fire

and so was her life. A red hot mess that danced on the edge of a knife and openly dared anyone to underestimate her..heaven help 'em, because then, oh then...it was play time!

I pictured her cuddled up under a blanket in South Carolina,

fiending for a kinder setting in Massachusetts, not for the weathers sake, SC just wasn't home to her people.

I replied with something that seemed clunky

and disingenuine:

"My mind touches raw nerve

when my intent, sharp as a sword,

parts the underpinnings of your darkness."

Self fulfilling prophecy....she wow reacts and I reply in like kind,

blushing, I laugh and wonder how I could be falling for someone over the internet. Could I see myself giving her a chance?

I mean, I was half her age, states away and hopped up on adrenaline from conversing with a beautiful woman who had depth. Imagine that, DEPTH!! I exhumed the word from some distant space deep inside me, that I assumed had died long ago.

Mmmm, waiting..the word floated in my brain, disembodied,

ugly, painful as a hanged nail.

My mind 404'd on the W part...finally, I broke the feverish spell,

"Well, at any rate, she gives me strength to write. So if nothing more that a lonesome poets fancy toy, I suppose I'll label her muse and keep her at a six foot distance."

We're all waiting for something, waiting to die, at the very least.

"I suppose we might as well be alone together." I blurted out and messaged her right then and there, I was about to ask her the wildest questions I could think of.

Now, how could I phrase it?

"Would you like to muse on life and await death together?"

what about,

"Death is a short sword beneath the twelfth rib,

wanna get shwiffy and ignite life's pages?"

"Hey....I know this may seem strange, as we've only talked via the interweb, but I was wondering if you'd like to take in a few sunsets and wait around for our last breaths..as we pound out a few lines and title 'em, "Lone stars, strange angels dying for twylight:

(A Chronicle of Two Strange Birds That Necked and Lost Their Heads)"

I switched off my laptop, "You don't need fantasy...you need a reality check dude. Just because she's older and mysterious, with flair and similar music taste, is a part of your occult fraternity, has titillating conversation for you every time you turn on this damned machine AND is gorgeous, with such welcoming and seductive eyes DOES NOT mean she's at all what you need. Do you remember where this has gotten you in the past? The world may well be ending and...all of a sudden it bit me in the ass,

like the rottweiler had when I was eleven...you'd be sorry if it really were the end. Go to her, take care of her, forget about the monetary issues, the unfinished business with mom and dad.

You know they only want your happiness in the end,

maybe she's exactly that..besides how will you know if you never get to know her better? It's all a chance for adventure, change of pace, listen to her words, her rhythm, her vision, let her consume you man! I decided I'd switch back on before she could reply,

jack-knife her heart and hold the treasury of her mind hostage..only problem was I couldn't choose how to start this conversation, so, in the end, I let the old ticker do the talking

and sent her a poem,

"In life, we very rarely find those who touch us with hands that project rarity.

Most conform, some glisten, others fade.

I have spent much time in the realms of emotional ecstasy and, taking it for granted have become parched in a barren valley of desolation.

To re-ignite Rex Igni is to re-introduce him to the kingdom that was stolen from him.

You have placed me upon a high seat

and so I ask of you Warrior Queen, with what kindness might I repay you?

Shall it be these words smithied by one who is

tired be your effigy?

May the Fall worship your aging body

by upholding your dignity with a crown of leaves.

Shall the warm sun ignite the fire in your veins that you too have bequeathed unto

me?

Surely the spring shall proclaim the fame you have won for your name and uphold your adventures in the annals of time.

And the daimon of mind, the winter king,

shall he not bear thee up on death's black and shadowy wings, to a loftier state of being. Where you can feel no ache of bone nor toil nor grievance from any mortal being?

I would let you know that you have been a lovely rose, fair muse, I thank you, I uphold you in all of your fierce glory!"

In these days of peril many were waiting.

Waiting for everyone to give peace a chance..

waiting for death, in the form of a plague, itself to die..

waiting for healing,

some even waited for life to begin.

I had always waited impatiently for life to hand me opportunities as I worked...and wait and wait and wait for friends to come 'round and for my parents to understand why their son is how he is.

Talking with this feisty, fiery flower made me realize

I was no longer afraid of anything, least of all the waiting.