Skyward.
{Photo: pinterest.com}
By Blake Hutchins.
My Love
We are ever aiming skyward
Ever launching from an imperfect foundation
Gantries falling away in an ungainly hinge of earthbound steel
As we shed the bonds of convention
As our love and determination wash the earth with earnest phoenix fires
Pushing this joining of ours up through the clouds into the last feathery wisps of air
Outside the envelope of fixed horizons to where everything is open and vast
Where conjugal forces ply and pull
On our trajectory
Some threatening to drag us back down the well
And sometimes we tumble
Pressed hard by G-forces
Old tides that still clutch at our hearts
Scorched a little as we scrape along the stratosphere
Before tilting once again into rarified balance
Up here the view is immense
Worth the ride and then some
The world spreads before us in a crazy patchwork banquet
Naked and beautiful in its raw sunlit curves
Earthen bonds and hurts and imagined frailties revealed as the small things they can be
If we attain the right perspective
Match our velocities
Let old gravities lie
And cast off our old stages
To fall away and fade in a cleansing distant flame
Leaving us free to kick out into space
In a joyful tumble
Our potential resplendent up here in our aspired orbit
Balanced between the promises of earth and heaven
We can choose our direction
Any direction
Toward a place where up and down have no meaning
Where we make our place and our peace as we wish
Hand in hand accelerating
Correcting our position via intentional bursts of passion and compassion
Freefalling toward a future we can chart
By the gleam of infinite stars
And faith that we two can also be one.
*****
Blake Hutchins is a writer, humorist, yoga practitioner, and awakening student of the self. He avidly explores the chaotic intersection of ideas and history, pushes his body into new challenges, and drives himself toward a discovery of inner lightning, impossible love, and disciplined abandon. He wishes people would use apostrophes properly and learn to breathe, because people who don’t breathe don’t have fun. He has a whispering relationship with cats, who vary in their use of grammar. A devoted father of two amazing girls, he is taking new dance steps into his second half-century of life, shedding old skins and leaping into the dark. His guide word for this journey is kintsukuroi, the mending of broken things using silver or gold to make them more precious than they were before. He has an unholy love of metaphor that mixes well with coffee.
*****
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