gryphons_quill

I wrote this for someone special several years ago. She recently found it and read it back to me... I didn't have a copy. It's strange, reading my own phrases, my own imagery, but with only a vague memory of actually writing it. The emotional memory is strong, but the more physical or image memory isn't there at all. So this gives me a glimpse into my past self, in a way; and into a relationship that was important to that past self, and is still important to me now. Continuity and change.

When first i winged my way to you, I dreamed
of night skies, and soaring,
...and of your light drawing me mothlike and unresisting.
I painted the darkness with living stars singing
and between them deepest echoing darkness.
I drew your light as you drew me in;
the color of wonder.
You smelled like burning and I remembered angels.
When I first found you in my dreams, I was haunted
by the familiar. I know now --
I wrote you already, a hundred times over,
when I was a gryphon and tasting the night.
I wrote you in darkness, my luminous one.
Now when I ride the winds to you, dreaming,
I see only light,
your light,
and I wonder --
how can anyone shine as an angel
but never fly?
I am become my gryphon again;
wing away with me, my love.

(I hope you like it, luminous.)

I think, on balance, that I still like the poem - and that I still mean every word that can be meant - and that we are still ourselves,

lucia. Thank you for finding this and giving it back to me - it's like a little piece of me come back.