Retro Poem #5: Gentle Permeation

My dear, I am thinking about you.

It seems to happen every day.

I wonder off to my private world

Of imagination and possibility.

The secret chamber is not challenged

By the old violent pounds

Of a heart denied.

I do not wince at its quaking

Or fear that someone will discover

The rumble and tumble of agony within.

The inner walls are not challenged

By violent raging force.

Now, rather, it is a gentle caress,

A soft push welling up

With every thought of you.

This now threatens to breach my secret walls

And to spill my soul for the world to see.

It is the gentle force,

The fragrant pondering,

Of a life spent in love with you

That reveal my inner contents

As they spill helplessly into my days.

I fear I am more equipped

To handle a brutal, pungent attack,

Than a sweet, romantic brooding.

That I have a growing passion for a woman

Cannot be hidden from those around me.

This seeps its way through my pores

So that it pervades my person.

Though others cannot discern the object of my passion,

They clearly sense what burns within me

Even if it is as yet unidentified to them.

You have been my secret.

Not that I am ashamed,

But afraid and uncertain.

I have not felt it necessary,

Or them necessarily worthy,

To gaze upon you in my secret chamber,

To peruse the pouring possibilities within my soul,

To look at you through the lens of my feeble words.

I have not felt it necessary,

Or them necessarily worthy.

These are inner things for now,

Only to be shared with inner friends.

When I know - if I know -

The will of God is one with my inner chamber,

I will pour out my love for you in a fragrant display

That all will see,

In which all will rejoice.

Until that time, I am content

To keep my secret

As shabbily as I can.