Duel Dwelling Souls

Feeding Time at the Aquarium

It would seem my slippery seahorse, though silence is your disguise,
Your capacious smile reveals the joy so long lost in your eyes.

I have fed you with assurances,
Satisfaction for me found in your beaming windows.

In this holiday season where monitory gifts are the norm,
More precious gift than your rapture could not be formed.

Tiny toys snuggled close to the heart of a man who is silent,
Articulate powerfully of your love for my whimsical penchant.

As for the manufacture of your nonsense, sir, I truly am perplexed.
It gives me pause to question is it all wishful thinking fabricated in my head?

"A sign," I asked, "a sign," I begged and the collective sub-conscience did entreat,
“Stand by Your Man,” I shook my head, you must be daft, this can not be.

Salt and pepper the ever day spice of life, does not speak of the cornucopia.
In the bland and sometimes ignored beauty of my self assembled utopia.

You have been a herb garden so diverse the gods should envy me my bounty.
A potpourri of fragrances to rival any high end department store’s perfume glory.

The New Year approaches, the scythe of time reaps the bounty of the hours.
Like Buddha beneath the Tree of Wisdom, I will to fend off Mara with festoons of flowers.

I travel back in the time, this year has bestowed upon my hungry banks of memories.
Findhorn Gardens, Daemons, journeys through the occult, The Celestine Prophecy.

The animal totems that have come to me to instill in me that I have yet to see.
What it is that binds my soul to yours, and your romantic diversions to me.

When We Greet Each Other In The Air

I lift my cup of ether,
It is deliciously heady and brimming with hope.
A toast to what ever is to come,
With the magnificence to cope.

To you my darling, ever constant, ever enduring,
My quite mate.
We have all that two could require,
So how about a date?

Ah but dates are deadlines, all of them are fake,
That is not what I wish to impart.
Through all of our hub-bub buddy,
The cantankerous contentions of the heart.

There is a truth that lies between us,
That we do both deny to our detriment it seems.
Duel dwelling souls such as you and me,
Have no demand for domestic dreams.

For what one finds in domesticity,
Is the tamed, the claimed and the other to blame.
Staged family pictures profusely perched,
On the mantels in gilt or silver frame.

Will not ever do justice to the energy that we share,
When we greet each other in the air.
That our encounters continue to flair to unimaginable highs,
Without a fretful care.

L.D.Neill

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