like the wind, she's never still,
wallow sometimes she may sparingly,
in her darkness there is light,
my senses she does fill,
walking softly silent at times,
she rides the lands triumphantly.
==================================
there is a person i wish to write about.
this person is damaged.
i cannot tell if they are beyond repair. however, i can tell you that the person still functions.
many judge and point - saying that they dont work properly, that the person has flaws.

i happen to like the flaws.

people hammer on about perfection as if it's attainable. what you perceive as perfection other's see as flaws and go to great lengths to assert that the perfect person has to be their kind of perfect.

i dont.

the person i talk about has serious flaws, but i like them. it doesnt mean that they arent flaws, it just means that i like them and am powerless, as most of us do not realise, to change them in the least.

you could say i accept those flaws.

the most perfect thing about this person is that they are NOT and i repeat NOT perfect.

i've been in touch with this person for a while now. i know them, their quirks, their habits, the words they utter before they speak, their oddities, their weaknesses, their little defences...

yet, at the same time - i'm reminded i know nothing at all. i have no control even though i know so much. no control over my feelings for this person.

i realise - there is no such thing as control. it's an illusion we create of being in command. the most powerful person in the world can be killed in a natural disaster.

forests can be wiped out in floods, even this land we live on and build little fences on, it moves regardless of us wanting it not to.

the earth can be wiped out by a slight shift in it's orbit or a meteor the size of a long haul truck.

everything works on it's own pace. this person works on their own pace. when they will find the time to finally look at me the same way i look at them - i will be waiting to look right back.

this person is worth all that.

now, if you are reading this, and you know who you are - smile!











...and send me a text

Welcome back, no idea what you are going on about though.

Hope it's not same woman as last year though.
_________________

It makes perfect sense to me.
I wrote something vaguely similar - the bit after the poem, I mean - about my son a year or two back, he has aspergers and manic depression and has made several suicide attempts, been labelled crazy etc. etc. yet through it all we (his dad and brother and I, and now his fiancee) love him unconditionally.
That is what you mean isnt it? Unconditional love. Whether it is returned in the same vein matters not.
I get sick of hearing the people who talk about "when he gets better" - as if who he is right now isnt 'perfect' enough, they are waiting til he fits their own brand of 'acceptable'. I tell them not to hold their breath...he is who he is and thats just perfect to me.
Everyone needs a Shiraz of their own, watching and waiting patiently, even if that wait is forever. I hope you dont have to.
Its a lovely poem.