Seeds & Music

Seeds & Music

by M.T. Noah

Seeds

seeds

seeds

seeds

dropping from your fingers

trails i follow

as i waken from this damnable

amnesia

Christna Perri's "A Thousand Years" whispers to my heart

you sing into my soul

but i can't see you

...

a vague flickering of a face

full of longing,

eyes full of pent up,

broken hearted love

preserved and haunting,

like the heat above a flame

is it an optical illusion,

or are you really there?

...

I break down from never finding You,

my only Treasure . . .

and yet here again,

a phantom touch and memories come screaming

of tea on the outer corridor of a Very Ancient Korean Home

standing beneath an Even Older Gingko Tree

of kisses stolen while the servants are out of sight

of out of place artifacts

I recognize but don't know why

I know that was my pocket watch . . .

why did you take it dressed like an ancient Chinese astronaut?

Why do you have fox ears and dance across the skies,
laughing all the while?

Rider of dragons,
Chula Divine,

I miss your voice.

"And yet I am always Present with you, my Treasured Beloved."

Half way visuals,

a long, long memory;

and I hear this one:

INXS' "Never Tear Us Apart"

"Pick up InuYasha, see what you recall."

-No, I don't like manga-

"Do it!"

-But -

And so it goes until I give in and see exactly how badly

He's told the story. THIS NEVER HAPPENED!

Well, not THAT WAY. Big oaf.

Along the way the seeds dropped

remind of what happened by

His telling it wrong to humans

Always

That hairpin in Kamisama Kiss,

NO.

HIS MOTHER gave me that.

on Kunlunshan millennia before the

NEOLITHIC EVEN THOUGHT TO CONTEMPLATE BEGINNING!

And in my family line it stayed until I was 12

and middle school bullies broke it

on a school bus

how prosaic

and unlikely.

seeds

seeds

seeds

seeds

dropped around the world

JUST IN CASE I HAPPENED TO BE BORN THERE

but there are many aspects

in many bodies

so many of My Larger Self

who need to hear them

need to see them

Aziraphale,

you didn't need to say I'd burnt my car . . .

you angelic bastard.

Crowded House's "Don't Dream It's Over" plays,
and I say,
~I can’t, Beloved, for you’ve made even the suggestion impossible.~

"You are my world."

And you are mine,

by any name,

in any time,

in any world,

any universe,

any dimension.

For time and space are nothing,

and we live in the gaps,

my love,

between matter and antimatter

between right and wrong,

electrons encompass infinite space,

in fact and not in jest,

and there we hid our love for long and long and long again.

You have said,

while dropping seeds

seeds

seeds

seeds

for me to follow as I waken;

you have said,

so many times,

"We are taboo in every world ever

we have lived in,

and we are forbidden

in every lifetime you have ever lived

and I will live and die

by the will of your heart,

and never once in millions

of human reckon'd years

have I, did I, nor will I

regret it."

And honestly,

Delight Partially Seen,

Treasure Hidden by the Crassness of Materiality,

Honored Beloved,

Bonded in Life and Love since long before

any human thought it a Thing To Do - -

You are the same for me.

Aubrey Colletti's Musical Collage in Honor of Hsi Wang Mu rings out into the night,
gentle and pow’rful. I hear you sigh and call

me your only Goddess, dedicate yourself again to eternal service as my Priest. 

I laugh, because I am Nothing if not merely the Priestess to your Godhood
and the stories you inspired got your Job wrong again. 
 

You are family-ar, but you are not my Familiar.

"Mischief."

managed.