Love is…

Love is love, they say. I’ve now heard it so many times. Once, before it became a modern by phrase I believed the authorship solely mine. I’ve seen it in slogans, marketed on products and in every other way. I suppose it serves its purpose. Love always does.

The year is 2030, I have survived the apocalypse. It is quiet today, the trolley cars that hum and hiss and clack and whir on the way past my street window are silent. I can hear singing in the distance....oh crap, i mean, oh my god...i forgot the earth meeting.

The sky today is clear, as I glance out the window of my adobe, and slightly cool the breeze suggests. The sheets are hanging on the line, and I am late. I rush to dress,as i run out the door, I pick my sandals off the rung by the door. The soft earth a beaten path beneath my bare feet.

Once a week, out here, all the transport systems are shut down, and our community indulges in the whole day of solace.

Today is Earth Day. The community gathers once weekly for discussion, communion, and celebration of Her. Many of us hold the belief that the earth and nature in general is responsive to love, so we believe it helps to add personal pronouns in reference. Its kind of a girl thing, it isn't mandatory, its for fun, for celebration and tradings of information, recipes,seeds, gardening tips and arts. It is a point of fellowship. Its a marker of gratitude for a release from the old ways, with the old plagues and habits of destruction.

Around the bend

Away from the prying eyes

lies the sun

sweet urban landscapes

and wooded repose

a combination of elven

love and fairy tale old

the sea swims again

modern survival

in larger life

a gesture

a posture

a mechanisms gold

quieter engines

loves and swoon

magic and aura

an altruistic room

the depths of glory

reserved

my love

my life

my words

echo

in corridors of thought

knock down doorways

of mental trespass

and speak to the heart

unite

for now is the time of the earth.

These thoughts spoken and written, to help assuage the residual trauma and nightmares of surviving apocalyptic doom, were now mantras. This one being the one I heard upon arriving in the clearing room.

This is evolution, a beginning and an end.

On the shores of loss

we have built a shrine to peace

from ashes and doom

we have risen

and embraced

a time to dance

and a time to reap

i am the harvester

the sycle

and its sheath

we have tasted the moon

and lived from war

we have carved from greed

trans

formative art

we are wed

a meld

modern and divinity

the tolerance

to forbear has born

we the overcomers

we the bringers

we the victors

have waged a war of words

and fashioned them

into peace

blessed are we

They dance, and sing....my mind wanders. I am growing older now and prefer to be home more often than not. I think I may ride the trolley to the city tommorow. Absentmindedly, I finger the locket my husband , gave me for our 10th anniversary.

I listen to the opening statements from the Father Superior;

Today is no other, time stops never

short is the day and long the night

for the sorrowful, the wasteful, the proud...

Later that night, after the festival of sunset, I lay in bed beside my husband and watched the moonlight spill across the floor. The arched windows and sheer curtains did glorious things for the light and shadowed movements of glow across the bed and room.. Etheral is the only word I have ever thought appropriate.

Long days and sorrowed nights were once the only moments in the malady we referred to as life. What an inane dance of war for glory. Unworthy bastards who lived only for gluttony filled the visions of my memories.Laughing and posturing, acting and harrowing, what a life it was. Oh well, they are dead and long gone now. Such was the pittance of their existence, their names will not even be remembered in death.

I roll over, sweet sanctity. Deep breath and holy sleep.

Humanity continues and I am growing old.

This is the beginning of an era, and the end of one.

my love

my life

my words