The Quickening
By:Katherine Davis
It is the the meaning of life,a simple pleasure,a breathe,an emotion,a grant in time,and a morn of death.It is what is inside you,and living in me.It is life's ups,downs.Its' smiles and its' tears.It is everything you are,and nothingness.It is the deep down emotion that eats away at your strength,and brings you to your knees.It is that fork in the road.The stone admidst the path,and the ruts in the barren field.It is that step through the door,and yet,one step backward.It is the cherish moment in time,and a moment that time forgot.It is a empty whiskey bottle on the shelf that saids"When!"and the shoebox wrapped in a tiny string,in the bottom drawer,only a reminder of time as it use to be.
It is the time when the biggest fear is losing the one you love the most,and letting go to go onward.It is that first of everything.Words,steps.date.kiss,and child.It is the single expression of a longing,truth,innocent,and a shear promise.A touch,a carrass,in the shadow of the dark,and the warmth of the sun.It is the gleamer in someones eyes,and the glistening of the bare skin.It is the walk in the park,and a blanket on a rivers bend.A cricket serenading,and the birds inspiring the night sounds.Life's little meanings becomes pleasures.Cold feet warming under the covers.arms enticing the other.A favorite song,playing a symthony of ectasy.A couple laying ,watching their favorite movie,just long enough to fall asleep in each other gentleness.Two pillows,a blanket,a bottle of wine,and candles in a moonlit night.Then taking those same two pillows,to see who can make the stuffing come out of them first.I will win.A passionate kiss,within the trinkling of the rain.Life's little meaning,becomes a smile.A note,just a reminder,how much someone cares.There is no rhyme nor reason for this,just because.A warm sponge bath to some acking,while talking of the tommorrows together.It is a look,a glance,in the mirrors of the soul.A kinship,a callin,within an embrace.It is knowing someone that you never met,within a bus station,a train depot,or the corner market.It is the knowing,the thoughts of another,without spoken.It is a feeling of being safe,and the danger all at teh same time.It is the excitement,fulfilling pleasure,devouring the need.The sublential passion of fire,a blaze,that cannot be put out,nor dwindle.The rage of a flame.A child,a mother.A son,a father.God,spirit,and the holy ghost.It is serenity,the stillness,and the quake.The possesion.The anger,damnation,and eternity.Fire and ice.Red and black.It is the soul,flesh,bones,and blood.All incase in a matrix effect.Yet,freedom beyond compare.it is the sound of your own heartbeat.In the mince of a crowd.
Life's little meanings becomes a look.It is the way you gaze upon a wretched soul,and see the beauty of it all.It is the just cause,and the cause justice.It is reaching for a gold ring,grasping its' meaning,and reading its' inscription."OUR LOVE TAKES WINGS" It is the touch of a morning rose,as the dew drip from its' pedals.The smell of lilac throughout the rooms.It is the flickering of a butterfly as it sets so softly upon ones finger.It is the coolest part of the day,and the blistering of the night.it is the twinge that needles the aching of one so missed.It is the stars that you can't count.It is a quest of uncertanity,and the knowing of all fate.Just beyond the grasped of eternity.It is your lips tasting mine.It is everytime you whisper Good-night,and within the break of dawn.It ius the quickeing inside me,it is you.
