Unseen Light

dearest,
i can't seem to accept what is.
all i do is carry on, moaning and complaining, and
then say i'm sorry and ask you for forgiveness.
and so, to the pain of loving me
i add the unfortunate misdemeanors
of annoyance and repetition.
still, long distance, we talk of dirt and chickens,
and inside i am dying, and
i am sorry it is taking so long (there i go again).
i don't know what to offer you now but my silence.
i love you with all my heart and soul, and
i see the love shining in your eyes,
unlike any other i have known.

so why, sometimes, my "all or nothing at all" attitude,
and why, sometimes, do i just want to die?
not that it makes any difference,
it is just another "want" - just as i want you.
and just as reality sends what it will,
death comes and takes what it will, when it will, and
love comes and takes and gives as it will,
and life blesses me with you, and
part of me turns aside and say it is not enough
and i am, at once, bitter and so ashamed,
and weeping, i grieve for and loathe my perfect imperfections.

yet our love endures, and
burns bright like the sun,
and sometimes, under that sun,
i smell springtime in the air,
and inside this tired old seed of me,
inside the ugliness,
deep in the mud,
something new and fresh and green stirs,
and moves toward the unseen light.