The Rich Vegetarian

An Examined Life

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Category: Poetry (page 1 of 2)

Winter Yearning

I am looking to find a name for this yearning,
that emerges on a late winter night,
or early dawn.

When it gets cold and chilly, and the desire for comfort commingles with the one for warmth and closeness,
Hands go forth searching, the fingers clasping, curled up into each other,
Bodies curve inward, fitting like two crescents, soft and curved, curled and shaped.

The comforter and quilt and warm woolen blankets all get merged and layered,
coming together, never pulling apart.

It is the state between sleep and wakefulness, it is a half-dream, a silent conversation,
It is home and warm breaths and half-murmured imaginings, am I dreaming or is this real?
Perhaps I am recounting a dream.

But now I am gone again,
and we drift off into this half-lit, humidified quiet, warmed and whirring heater space.

Dancing in the Dark

Do you ever dream of dancing in the dark,
Curtains drawn, not a soul around,
Music filling me in and out, enveloping like a billowing cloud of vapor,
Expanding, growing… diminishing me.

That is how this song makes me feel.

Freedom/Isolation

A balloon flies free, untethered by a strong hand,
It isn’t too different for a mind that likes solitude
The days are long, the moments flow along nicely

It is quiet and spacey

No voice beckons, no company calls.

It feels nice, then quiet, then too silent,

and I often think: when does the notion of freedom bleed into isolation?
When does the feeling of warm comfort become a strain?

The quiet space starts collapsing within,
Then the only sound is the silent one, that feels loud and blaring and deafening.

I wonder: what about the future? Will it be quiet too?

Is this my personality, a bad mood, a time-of-the-month? A hormonal shift, a moon cycle play?

And then it begins again, another day, another evening by the window, wandering in half-thought, half-soliloquy, full-___.