Oh. Daggers to the heart babe!
This write is terminal and has a quiet elegance about it.
The whole piece gets you in the feels.
It all tied together perfectly with the moth. I didn’t realize the significance of it until the end.
Just bravo! It needs to go in your book!

Proud fiancé right here!

I was talking to a co-worker the other day, about if we should tell our loved ones or not if we are “terminal”. Because it changes the dynamics of the relationship right away. Happiness is hard to have then. It’s always bittersweet from then on.
So, I began this write based on the dilemma. But then the whole moth aspect gave me a different approach, like a focal point away from the gloom.
I will undoubtedly hack at this some more, slightly, but for now this is what I got.
Thank you honey! It’s a bit heavy I know. Just a write I swear! 😉

This is a wonderful sad and bittersweed writing on a difficult and heavy topic, dear Styxian! The moth as a spirit guide is a well chosen and meaningful symbol. A moth knows how to die. It focuses only on the light and its overwhelming attraction towards it. I think death can show us what really matters in life. Gratitude for everything we have experienced in life, for the people we love and for all of life here on Earth. Of course, a terminal disease comes with many burdens and hardships but it also gives you the chance to say goodbye and to surrender completely to love – just like a moth does.

Jeez Mark, this is beautifully heart breaking and offers much food for thought. The moth motif is a clever touch.

Brilliant work.

Yes the big “C” through neighbors and family we are familiar with this destroyer of home, family, and bank accounts. We remember while younger a neighbor was sent back home to die with stomach cancer. Dude you would not believe the screams, the entire neighborhood felt relief with his passing. Maybe, just maybe this moth was also is spirit guide. To tight dude

Brilliantly penned, Mark. This one has layers and depth my friend, and it pulled on the heartstrings as well. Excellent write. Appreciate you.

Damian

I enjoyed this. It is full of images and captures the rolling duality of life and death, with style.
Regards James

That’s a beautiful expression of hope and yearning! The central metaphor of the garden, particularly the image of “putting my hands in your dark soil,” really captures a deep desire for creation and connection, even when starting “late in life.”

AWWW Valuptas, your are making me blush. I was going to go food shopping this morning but now I can’t, my face is too red. What will the neighbors think?? They will ask questions and then laugh. At some point, my face will return to normal, but until then, THANK YOU so much for being “pulled in”. OMG, I’m still blushing…. HELP!!! ;0)

The imagery of “lips spit fire, yet taste like Chardonnay” is such a vivid paradox, and the way you connect her kiss to both a visual “kaleidoscope of colors” and the sound of “psithurism” is beautiful. It makes the experience truly multi-sensory. Beautifully penned.

Hi Ms Valuptas, I would not want your royal “whispering” (unholy or otherwise), sitting in a jail cell. How else would I receive such beautiful comments?

For most of the poetry I write, I add music. I think it adds to the feel and meaning of the poem. Sade’s song “Kiss of Life” was a really good fit for this poem. And yes, I am “foxy”… er… I mean… damn, did I say that out loud? Actually, more “wolfy” than “foxy”. But you know, wolfs can be sly too. ;0)

Anyway, sorry about the couch. THANK YOU for the comment, the visit, and for making my poem feel special!

Now that is a thought. No distractions other than living your life. Very, very simple life

What I write! And done on the toilet! Lol
This is quite the masterpiece. I enjoyed all the back and forth. Like reading a tennis match.
Caveman vs the 21st century.
Well done!

Loved the ending!

I am somewhat jealous; my toilet poetry is usually flushed because of the brown streaks. You write of the ying and yang of individualism, the brown streaks versus what once was. We humans have lost touch with our origins. We once made cave art, danced and howled at the moon; where it was women who ruled the campfires. And in some ways, we were more intelligent than we are today. We could talk to animals and create myths about the formations in stars. We will never get back to this, but I do think we can create a society where we once again talk to animals and reach for the stars.

Your poem is thought-provoking and appreciated. Thanks for the share.
-Curt/redzone

Emma, this is a well narrated story of the history of your writer’s life where college took you. This glimpse into the past was quite stimulating to read. I loved how the life events unfolded and reading this story that felt like an entry for a memoir.

John

Many thanks, you found the thread running through time and kindly accepted the truth of my words. There is a future to come but with pauses for self reflection. More than that, I don’t know yet! Patience or adventure!?

I just found this… Oh! You write, such indigo between lines.

weirdly, this reminds me of someone that i used to love, from afar.