A Preparation For Silence / by Laurence Fuller

Art by Lucian Frued - Poem by Laurence Fuller

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How did you know I was here? You heard those whispers in the dark, you spoke to me with intensity and challenged excaliber to raise above the armies of my heart. It wasn’t enough to fight until many nights passed with clarity and home felt warmer. 

Feed the man befriending visions, early decisions question closeness, whether this is real or some confusing omens now its gone. 

I have more questions, but leave it all to the mist, all you need to know is inside you already, all those swimming mystic nothings prepared you for this silence. 
I could sleep here a while and wake up a better man, I could find that place where all the best of me comes pouring out and left by the wings, read into everything.

There’s plants and creatures sing to you, tell you of their troubles, their unconscious pebbles dropped like pennies in ponds with wishes you musn’t tell.

The sun comes out to test the day that we’re all moving under it’s horizon. Remember the swans by the pond that day you pushed the park of my niece in frosty London morning, the cold was so biting and we felt so much of my childhood memories there, you keep it all inside. Push it all away, I have to make havoc for you to answer me, you’re so quiet I can’t help but to test I’m still there within you.

We say the strangest things don’t we, logic casts aside the truth for the repression of the soul, sometimes we need that to see further than the barriers of the well trodden pavements we call home. What matters most pushes through all the the battles that I must wage to win Jerusalem. 
Keep warriors at a distance when their natures start to rumble, they must rush out the cages of their unconscious and go take the prize, capture the destiny with elephants of war rearing under under a sky of fire lit arrows, spears beneath gode them with trumpeting bellows. 

I like you because you were quiet but now that silence is all too much to bear, you say nothing to take hold of me having too little to give in exasperated love, slow it down she thinks, all the little movements will mean more then, just a little at a time and you can feel the vastness of my ocean. Hold back and back and back some more, quiet outside but seas stretching distant lands within. Still waters run deep but what if they are rapids underneath. There’s a frosty reservation to you, it’s all so easy to hold back and not be loved, have silent unrequited crushes that way people can’t disappoint too much, from a distance they simply bleed out on their own, nobody needs anyone we can all live in solitary cages we call home. You believe nobody can really love a thing like you, undeserving and a thing to be used, pretty flashy seductions, make noise and there you are, blow it up and they come running from the dark, small affections crushed like bugs wash it down with slugs of disinterest, too much for me, so big and glorified, grandiose pleasure and status beyond my reach, courts bow and sway at his command, and words that sway the masses pound out rhythms by his fingertips. There’s no looking back once that paint hit the canvas a bond was made, it was sealed in the deepest reaches of ourselves, sealed in the sea of the unconscious, weather shipwrecked treasures of dissatisfied union lay buried forever or to be uncovered by another with less satisfaction but more manageable to hold and control. Tempered affection, relax and be civil that’s enough, read into words and movements of feeling that’s enough, the real thing is too much, admire from a distance that’s enough.