To Be .... To Become

Nick Maynard 

new wine 

A life is a sum of its parts –

and this is the sum of ours…

To be is to become, and in a thousand words I hope to transform you –

a thousand utterances cast upon the wind,

to find a home somewhere deep inside,

where I might find a home…

and be remembered…

and become something other than alone…

I knew from the first moment I met him, that I had known him already…

A lifetime of lifetimes passed/past… I know that I had always loved him… To be with him was to be whole again – it was as if I’d been missing something all of my life – as if I had been holding my breath just waiting to surface, since forever... And now I’d finally found what I’d been missing all this time – in him… I had become whole again… He had saved me from myself, and so now I belonged to him, for him to do as he wanted. I gave him the power to hurt me… And I knew that he would… ‘Whom the gods destroys, they will first make mad…’ And he was the embodiment of god made manifest… The most dangerous and contrary of all the gods... My god… My contrary…  My other half… My better half… My double…

I had thought him into being.

A Thought Form - conceived by a fantasy, brought into being by the force of sheer Will… From that poster I used to have on my bedroom wall – and that picture I tore from the magazine – and the dream I once had so vivid I could have almost touched yhim -

He is desire made flesh –

My desire made flesh…

He consumes me…

I watch him… I watch the way he moves –

the way his muscles move as he walks –

that effortless beauty of him…

The way he wears his hair

his shy downward glance

the soft baby-soft skin of his neck

his perfect shell-like ears... His voice,

His eyes,

His skin,

His smell,

His smirk.

His tenderness,

His touch,

His tension,

His release…

To be and become his sex – his addiction - his attitude - his closeness – his distance – his confidence - his shyness – his sweat – his torture – his dark – his light - his turmoil – his peace – his dreams – his desires…his hands – my hands on his – the way he lie on me – and they way I lie on him – his legs across mine – and his feet in the morning. The small of his back – his thighs – his arms – his chest - his belly and muscle… The cleft between his buttocks and the hair that grows there… And his cock – yes his cock – and the round of his arse – and the quivering – flickering… I see it all… From the perfect diamonds of hair under his arms, to his sulking pout and the way his nostrils flare - and the face he make when he cums… And that knowing smile that follows. His laugh - and my fears - my agonies - my lusts - my loves - my dreams. He is the place where I rest when I am tired of it all… he is my peace of mind. He is my fun – my sleep – my strength and my weakness… He is my past – my present – my history and my future… My living archive - all that is consumed by his truth and his lies, and his beauty, and his ugliness…

He transports me – transform me – makes me want to be and to become altered… he makes me want to become better – to be better –

We never looked for each other. We stumbled into being and fought to be free of the inevitable… Breaking, restoring – forging and growing - into this… Whatever this is… Unhealthy - some may say…

I say…

There are three things I cannot change…

The Past, The Truth and You…

One thousand words –

Six thousand miles –

Two and a half thousand sleepless nights - and long-haul flights.

And counting…

So far away you are now… I can barely hear your heart beating for the sound of mine breaking… So, to try to restore the little I have left, I close my body down… I choose to die another day… My love now dare not speak its name, because to name it would be to give it credence – would give it life… And I want it dead… I have no life… Full-circle again, the whole time turning, to be broken like a butterfly, in this life and the next, until eternity… And I search for him still… An endless unconditional love that hurts so badly, I could dash-out my own brain, to release the pressure it puts me under daily, hours – millisecondly…

Do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the pit of me, my breath – the last…

My soul I sell for fleeting sight For the end of all beginnings, and the start of everything.

I love thee to the last and first

Forever, as day to night

I love thee like no other can or could.

I love thee as pure as I can.

I love thee as passionately as you will let me.

In my grief, and in my future

I love thee with a love I can barely understand

With all my lost saints, I shall love thee with all my heart,

With all my laughter, all my tears - of all my life;

and, in the hereafter

I shall love thee even after, until eternity and beyond.

And it means nothing…

Less than nothing…      

You are not here to hear it…

Or to see what I have written about you and me…

                        To be and to become whole,

                        To be and to become alone again is to look into that hole,

and wish you could slumber there until he returns again,

and you can be and become once more…

And eighteen words remain to say one last thing…

I’ve used up nine… So I can whisper, nothing.