The Earth and Seed

A Lost Letter for Once A Lover

Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep. I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

Sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep. And then leave me alone.


It's in the burn that comes from first, the pit of the stomach, and then second, the chest. In waves, blood or breath, it doesn't matter. It's all in that cough or choke that brings up the boil that makes me want to sing it. Or even if I had the composure, I could somehow speak it.

As it is entirely obvious now, I have decided that the only strength that brings any giving is what's being brought to your eyes this very second. It's always safer to decorate sadness with words. Words that feel wonderful coming from just off your tongue. Much the way the actual feeling releases it's confines on your being. Words like sorrow and mourning. They pull at your insides just as the vowels roll right to their r's.

A man said to me today that friends and lovers can't save you. They just pass through you. And I never disagreed, but he should realize as well that just as all that enters and leaves remains what it has given. We exist because of what's delivered from what is outside of us. Keep your arms extended in welcoming. It's in this cycle that keeps our legs standing.

Despite such simple logic. Such a simplistic rationale. I realize its all the more complicated. We were buried in complications! Poured on by arguments, distemper and disillusionment. But most tragically, distrust and disrespect. Know it from me now, dear. I did accept you for who you are. Just as I had hoped many times that you did the same for me.

It was never established that it was not me that your expectations failed. You were good enough for me but never for yourself. Let it be clear to you now so that there is never a question remaining. Never a doubt to fall back on.

From this day forward, I will strip away what has for so long felt so dead to me. The years of losing myself to an inner self I can barely remember now, just as I could barely recognize then. I will merely retire into the passing. The cycle going through me. Just like the seasons, the remains of what was brought with resurface and recycle again. All only to disappear once more.

Yet, while whatever recollections reoccur, I will smile proudly knowing that we are both passing through in other ways, in other times. Praying that you will one day be good enough for yourself. Just as I hope you pray that I do the same.



Don't feel bad for me. I want you to know

Deep in the cell of my heart. I really want to go

There is another world

There is a better world

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Bye bye.

10:22 p.m. ::
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