Sit now in the gratitude and light surrounding you and understand you are never alone.
That behind what you see, beyond the senses that pertain to your perception is more than is imaginable.
You…and this is the whisper…remember only a whisper…
You are like the flower in the field of wild flowers.
Only you are every color, and even beyond color.
There is a whole world behind color, an entire spectrum unknown to thine eyes.
And within the spectrum is how the world speaks.
How life speaks.
I whisper of vibrations that turn the tiniest undetectable existence into magnificent form.
I whisper of the stream of consciousness that can build an entire city of what would seem gold in less than a second.
In that there is not time. It already exists before it is thought.
And this gold is but a light. The light of the spectrum. Everything is and will be a light of the spectrum.
And there is nothing to fear in this light. All is light. Light in weight, light in feeling, light in attitude, light in every feasible way.
The burden in this way is lifted. No pressure. No pain. No air that need be breathed. No feet that need walk. No gratitude because everything is. There is nothing to be ungrateful for, so in this there is no opposite. Only existence.
But remember this is but a whisper.
How can I explain to a flower what it is like to see when she has no eyes?
How can I explain to a bear what it is to borrow, when he takes what he needs?
How can I explain to a bird what it is to be free, when he only knows cage?
How can I explain to a child what it means to be without being when she only knows being?
You see, I only whisper.
But in my whispers you remember.
A part of you always remembers.
~ Sam Craft, July 2012
A friend on my walk
A Breath ( A short goofy tale of love)
I woke up with the sniffles, a little sneezing, too
And I remembered at the parade, I had stepped out in front of you
That strong daddy walking by, with the child on his shoulders
He asked her to cover her face. but it was too late, all ready over
She had spattered and splattered, her sneeze straight towards your face
A shower of toddler headed right to your place
No umbrella to be found, and no time to run
I dodged out in front, and my body I spun
I jet out before you, a mommy to save
All the glorious spit-fall, coming your way
And just to be sure, I breathed in real quick
Sucked in all the germs, so you wouldn’t get sick
~ Sam Craft, July 2012
~~~~~
I think I realized what love is for me. It’s that feeling I get when I want to breathe in and suck up all the danger, pain, sadness, and fear for someone else, so he or she doesn’t have to feel it. That’s what love is to me: A deep breath in….that’s all….one deep breath in. Sigh…..how I do adore with all of me.
I spoke: “I will scribe a million pages, every word a testimony to your beauty: an endless story. Beguiled and enchanted, my fingers will embrace the keys, and paint the all-encompassing passion that stirs my soul. Recklessly, I will hold your hands strong, hear your voice deep, and in pages’ dreams you shall live.”
He spoke: “I am not this flesh, nor these eyes. My beauty cannot be quantified or qualified or held in possession or estimation. Do not weigh, judge or evaluate. I have already been made prisoner of selfish eyes. Do not watch me as the others. Know beauty is immeasurable and does not rot with this flesh and break with this bone. Appearance will fade. Let loose this withering illusion you grasp. See where beauty truly rests. Behind the gaze. Come hither, come follow the depths of me. I shall take you through the corridors of my secrets, my dreams, my fantasy. Here I stand naked, exposed, and vulnerable. Here is risk. Here is truth. And fear unveiled. Here is beauty.”
I spoke: “To the depth of me your eyes speak. You are beauty from my dreams, every facet, every groove a memory, a recollection that inspires and pulls me through. You brighten me. You lighten me. You fill me with a glow I’ve never known. Every part, every line I have traced before. And yet, I am made not to touch, not to reach, not to know. How my heart aches. How my every day is filled with misery and dismay. Though I walk enlightened and free, with new hope and dreams, I am ever brought back to the pool of cool springs, the freezing knowing that you are not mine to have.”
He spoke: “Choose what bathes you. What bathes your spirit, a gentle charm, almost silent, almost invisible. You are inherently lovely. You calm me. You complete me with your kindness. A mirror to me, your logic is sliced through with innocence and curiosity. Justice is carried where you step. Secrets upheld. Your sweetness equal to your sincerity; both leave me thirsting for more brightness. You are my humble adobe, and my spirit rests in you. Your abiding grace coupled with loyalty, I cherish, moment by moment. I await you, as one awaits the sunrise. Can you not see that you are the sun to me, the one that feeds my very vine. How wonderful that I hold your inherent goodness, and not a shadow existence, a hope, a distraction. I hold on to truth, while you hold on to fantasy. Can you not see my love is pure, while you are still child sitting under tall tree, waiting for the shade to part, and love to find you, when you are already found? You stand filled, but yet you weep for this illusion of emptiness.”
I spoke: “But what of my story, my every wish around you, my waiting, my yearning, my constant wanting. Are you not what I need? Desire? Crave? My thankfulness inside your silhouette. I stand here, at center purged of games, intention, and manipulation. I stand naked, as you proposed. I am vulnerable to the core. I am all I can be. And yet you reject.”
He spoke (with laughter): “Precious one. I don’t know who taught you of love. Who taught you of heart. But what you wait for, what you crave, what you long for intensely with every bit of you, I cannot provide. That is your journey to walk. Your journey to lead. Remember I am this flesh still. Always this blood that runs out in time. The heart that tires. The brain that dissipates. Hold onto what is me alone, and you will wither. See that beyond the dream is the reality of spirit, this wanting man, who longs to be seen from the inside, where the light abides. Embrace the inner me, and in turn you embrace yourself. I am but a mirror, and shall always be my friend, a mirror of where you stand. What you make of me, you make into yourself. What you think you lack, you make me lack. What you think I am, you become. Build me up from the foundation, from the soul-level; so that when all about I fall apart, what remains is strength in character and spirit. Love me there. Love me at the center. Please. Please love me there.”
I spoke: “I love you there. I do. I love you there, and will love you there entirely, if that is what you wish. But how does one un-paint the pages I already scribed…how do I bleed this pain out of me. How does the yearning cease, the thoughts stop?”
He spoke: “You just decide. That is all. You just decide. Decide that you are in completion, that I am in completion, and any thought of a human fixing or repairing you is false. I can be with you, but cannot be you. I can be with you, but cannot be your all. I am not your answer, nor your question. I am a man. I am all that man is. And you are all that woman is. And together we are no more complete than apart. This is a game you play in your mind. A mystery that has no solution. So release. Decide and release. And turn your focus and energy to the core of you. Here is where the love is. Not outside.”
I spoke: “Then I decide. I decide. I am enough. You are enough. We are already complete. And I release you, lovely bird from your cage. I release you without expectation, dream, or intention. I release what I have made you into. I release the power I have granted you. I release everything, and in doing so, without this attachment, I will love you fully, for no other purpose but for your essence.”
Everyday Asperger's 