devanhadlock

[devanhadlock]

I'm about two advertisements away from leaving the internet and modern world for a backwoods life somewhere where the night is still dark, the scenery not carved up with poorly designed constructs and the written word uninterrupted by ads. Been saying it for years that there should be laws against commercials and advertisements that pop up or invade your visual space when you didn't expressly go looking for them. Bet its some free speech argument but don't we also always follow up those arguments with some example or law of there also being consequences for our words and actions? I'd like to make some citizen arrests of the people who cook up and execute plans to invade every corner of my awareness with their logos, psychologically disturbing adverts and propaganda. Where is the accountability, not to mention good taste, of businesses and marketers? And if it really does need to come down to taste then I'm not buying it cuz its nasty. I'm not even shopping but I can't drive down a road, pull up an interesting article to read or watch a short youtube video on Bigfoot without 10 different adverts assaulting my already agitated brain. I have to scream out loud lately just to get some of the frustration out every time I have my flow thwarted. I'll tell you what, I've lost all respect of otherwise reputable businesses who put up electric signs that are so garish and bright that they hurt my eyes driving by at night. I want the night to be night dammit. (insert every expletive known to man here) The negative attention you've grabbed for yourself doesn't subconsciously make me want to do business with you. I've turned away from otherwise tempting offers and deals just to spite the unwelcome interference. And I'll keep doing that till I get some respect! As a human with certain preferences for beauty, serenity, natural harmony, and the proper functioning of my intricately orchestrated biological systems and photo modulated chemistry I vote NO to all of it right now! You want my money, then get more creative than being annoying. Also stop ease dropping on my convos. Your brilliantly calibrated algorithms fail to include a basic human fact. We resist unwelcome attempts to https://www.instagram.com/p/Bv0pqg3H2Gk/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=lcsogfd2d2xy

[devanhadlock]

My brother found a old photo of me. I was looking more gay then long before I ever tripped and fell on my first wiener. In other news the manager at my favorite food place announced to a long line of customers that she knew me and that I was her therapist. Literally all I’ve done is listen to her ramble as she prepares my food. She’s is Not sleeping because boyfriend won’t leave her alone and wants sex all the time. Her regional boss is a yatch and that sort of thing. I shivered though at the pronouncement of my involuntary new role as therapist. This last visit she came and took over for her line workers position so she could talk to me while she made my meal. The drama was real. I pretended to be rushing somewhere so she kindly yelled out while I scurried away for me not to worry because she’d find my number so we could talk. Felt like a threat to me. So Instead of digesting my food I spent the next hr wondering if I’d ever given the place my info or if she’d actually find a way. Now I have to learn her schedule so as to avoid her or just find a new favorite place. Why won’t Jesus answer my prayers? Also I use YouTube as a lose oracle / divination tool of sorts. Between its algorithms and what I’d like to think is divinely guided timing of certain things I get answers sometimes. This mornings answer came in the form of a jungian psychological discussion of neuroticism. Wait....maybe Jesus is speaking to me through YouTube.... hmmm anyway I’m 100% who they were describing. So I’d like to take this wonderful revelatory moment and extend it into a year of therapy with a brilliant psychologist I found. My birthday is soon so I will be accepting love donations for my mental health journey. Also I realized today that my butt hair will someday soon be thicker than my head hair. Already longer. Not much to do here besides committing more wholeheartedly to said therapy. #gaytherapy #neurotic (at Park City, Utah) https://www.instagram.com/p/BtRXWSXH3yA/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1174ws0fa9q6d

[devanhadlock]

It is difficult to describe why Gillettes Commercial felt gross to me but I’ll do my best to break it down. Honestly it could just be the execution. And maybe for them it doesn’t matter because in the end it gets them much valued attention when attention is currency in hard up times. Its string of contrived and strangely vague scenes felt manipulative. I just feel that the heart of the message it was conveying was off base, despite the emotive score, and the provocative virtue signaling. Like it was so politically correct how could you honestly not feel a little bit distrusting of the entire thing. I know I am. When did it become wrong to go talk to or introduce yourself to a stranger? Is it only wrong when you find them attractive? Or if you are a male? Or straight or white or black? Or if you look and put off a certain vibe? I just think its bull shit. Doesn’t even make sense. The commercial lacks reality and specificity where it should be based on those things. It was whitewashed and creepy. If what they were trying to do was give example of proper and improper decorum then there are more helpful examples that could have been made. All three people in that scene looked like kept trust funders with ivy league degrees on a super nice and busy street. Pretty sure everyone here is fine. I know what it’s like to feel scared of men on the street or to be sexually harassed in public but still yet I DO NOT think it’s inherently wrong for a man to approach me and start up a conversation. If I don’t like him I’ll figure it the fuck out. He’ll probably get the hint and move on himself. If I do like him and it turns out I get a date then sweet! It would be the first date in a long time and the coolest thing that’s happened in a while. A guy with the courage to approach me and explore a connection without me having to get on some hideous app or go to a bar or club (which will never happen). WIN! The guys at the barbecue. Are they serious with this? “boys will be boys” yeah...they will. Just like girls will be girls and hermaphrodites will be hermaphrodites. What does that even mean? (at Park City, Utah) https://www.instagram.com/p/BtG354ehL_c/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1sw5lkj6ee5x1

[devanhadlock]

It is difficult to describe why Gillettes Commercial felt gross to me but I’ll do my best to break it down. Honestly it could just be the execution. And maybe for them it doesn’t matter because in the end it gets them much valued attention when attention is currency in hard up times. Its string of contrived and strangely vague scenes felt manipulative. I just feel that the heart of the message it was conveying was off base, despite the emotive score, and the provocative virtue signaling. Like it was so politically correct how could you honestly not feel a little bit distrusting of the entire thing. I know I am. When did it become wrong to go talk to or introduce yourself to a stranger? Is it only wrong when you find them attractive? Or if you are a male? Or straight or white or black? Or if you look and put off a certain vibe? I just think its bull shit. Doesn’t even make sense. The commercial lacks reality and specificity where it should be based on those things. It was whitewashed and creepy. If what they were trying to do was give example of proper and improper decorum then there are more helpful examples that could have been made. All three people in that scene looked like kept trust funders with ivy league degrees on a super nice and busy street. Pretty sure everyone here is fine. I know what it’s like to feel scared of men on the street or to be sexually harassed in public but still yet I DO NOT think it’s inherently wrong for a man to approach me and start up a conversation. If I don’t like him I’ll figure it the fuck out. He’ll probably get the hint and move on himself. If I do like him and it turns out I get a date then sweet! It would be the first date in a long time and the coolest thing that’s happened in a while. A guy with the courage to approach me and explore a connection without me having to get on some hideous app or go to a bar or club (which will never happen). WIN! The guys at the barbecue. Are they serious with this? “boys will be boys” yeah...they will. Just like girls will be girls and hermaphrodites will be hermaphrodites. What does that even mean? (at Park City, Utah) https://www.instagram.com/p/BtG3qj9BuwY/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1nlvfnx7eq3i

[devanhadlock]

Nature shows us that there are times to trust and fall. A season where to let go of our tenuous holds may be just the thing our roots need to find nourishment once more. That even our bare bones want the earth, the sun and the moon to embrace them with nothing in between. A time when jealousies are met with ardent love and attention. A season well acquainted with both psychosis and lucidity. Where in a day, life will bite you with ice, throw bitter blows at every unguarded spot and then turn around and blanket your wounds in the balmiest warm sunlight and outrageous displays of turning. Autumn is the time of haunting. Of smells leading us down invisible paths, strangely familiar is the magic they invoke. And It’s ok to be overwhelmed by it. I know I am. Every god dam year. Fall is the season where the blushed face of the beloved is written into a billion leafs and betrays a love so real and passionate it almost suffocates ….almost. For now we will just breath and practice receiving. Rest now love. Rest now love' https://www.instagram.com/p/BoFHe_PhjRr/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=8y2l7sztxth0

[devanhadlock]

Go sit upon the warm hard ground and hear the apples fall. The weight of bodies ripe and full as they heed the lovers call. Go walk beneath the apple tree and bare foot the sticky ground. Between your feet and sweet release are kisses few have found. Go my love, take all your grief and poor it out like rain. Not ever an apple or water drop in falling find only pain. Go my love and fall to me, the ready ground beneath your land. Our soul is ripe with life you see, at home dancing hand in hand. https://www.instagram.com/p/BoFGRjBB5AW/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1bguzjnbj82q8

[devanhadlock]

A friend said to me last night as we discussed dating, love and why Im not often or at all “you should go on dates. Just keep it light. Love is like a river that must flow it’s course”. I liked that and thought it had a place to land but had more to add. Like a river, the love I have to give must flow it’s course, it is true. And I would direct it away from sinkhole souls. Away from the throngs of insatiables who would water their wasteland gardens and noxious desires. If I did nothing to direct my course I might never make it to my ocean. Barely a trickle I would be. No, I will freeze to the greedy touch and have them walk atop me before sullying those limpid waters. I will know the name of all who impress upon my molecules their own signature and their desires will be made known in me. For this reason I keep guard that secret garden that lies within each atom and within each act in Eros’s bedchamber. For what is created therein must also be accounted for, In my heart. In the hands of the unskilled I will slip away and find my fertile ground and they drink elsewhere. To the un-initiated I will flow away as a swift current or evaporate into a nebulous cloud before their unmet desires. Oh but To my beloved I will raise my springs and ocean and drop by drop condense myself upon his lips and body until every atom of us is married in shared desire. The harmony of our chords be a song forever sung. Rising clouds, rivers abound and pools and oceans coalescing. I gather those same and disparate souls of long. Each tributary adding to the mighty flow of one. Advancing across the expanse we go and into the ocean as love we flow. The sounds of our waves as we roll into and over in passion. As Lightly draped cirrus we are high in the stratosphere. Like Cumulonimbus we are full and pour ourself out upon the fertile ground, being born in emerald stalks. We run across rocks, meadows, and hidden places. In us the dissolved memories of lifetimes and faces. Coming now to form the salt upon our naked bodies in sun too bright for all but our eyes. Yes, my love, we must flow like a river. https://www.instagram.com/p/Bm6BVDZlMwC/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ve99hgswkesr

[devanhadlock]

Rock the boat upon your river styx! Send ripples of yourself and cry out those blackened ethers. Let rise the monsters of the deep and heavy waters that it might reveal itself to you. Let rip the cords that bind you to the mast of your sinking ship and wrap firm your sinewy limbs around the back of the writhing Dragon, mammoth, sage. Wild and wise be it’s name. Ride and die to the path that held you above your deep. Be born again amphibious, winged and at home in all your realms. You are electro magnetic. Scaled forever in shades of light and power. Humble is your way. Audacious describes your name. Like the mangrove, shore yourself up and be not weathered by ceaseless life. Like the Lilly rise from the mud and flower in the light of your coming home. Again, again and once more. https://www.instagram.com/p/Bm51QCIF28T/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=46b39jv4x9f8

[devanhadlock]

Beloved, native of our soul. Brown, bare foot and burnt like the scorching land. Your dark hair tangled by the violent winds of time and stripped of its blackness by that searing Star. You, Who’s celestial eyes of solar amber did capture me there in the void of space, holding me....breathless. I have been gathering every atom inscribed with our holy name and placing it upon our fundament. I You are, eternally, the radiant face upon my waters. Come, lay with me, our bodies becoming the stars.

[devanhadlock]

Where words have failed to capture, there my soul doth lay. Where time has ceaseless weathered, the body of today. Where thoughts have ever wondered, my focus still remains. Though Clouds may span forever, my vision is as day. My love, in haste, return here. Your home in our embrace. If death has moved upon you, then lift your shining face. The Holy hath decreed us, together wrapped in grace. Return to me my lover, return to this our space.

[devanhadlock]

Come lay in me whispered the meadow. Inhale naked the breath of the pine. Bring all of your tender and courage. For this is where grief comes to cry. Again I will call you back into. The grave of your thousand life’s. Bring only the ghosts that still haunt you. For here they will learn how to die. Fly home to yourself and your meeting. With Love that calls out in this night. My soul, if you hear only one thing, you are always and ever my light. (at Andalusia)

[devanhadlock]

Dear You, I’m so glad you came to me today. Oh how I hear you!!!! How I feel the fight in your veins and your tired bones. Your burdens are not weight to me. I hear and empathize. Of the rebellion of the body, the problem of these pains, the weight of this our solitude and the ear shattering loudness of our minds. These are anxieties few will know. The rage of lost or stolen time. There are no words or a reimbursement of time but we have power to become light. We are vibrant and alive. We have reason still to thrive. The perspective alone, born from those metamorphoses not asked for, that made us men bent and brought to knee by pain and illness and mental strife, are something of a treasure you know. It doesn’t happen in the vacuum of our minds and our personal inner life’s. It happens out on the bridges between this side and that side. That idea of singular success, or independent victory or rugged independence I feel might be a lie. The truth is way more nuanced and embodied much like life. Like the hand we hold while walking or a fertive graze upon our thigh. Like the smell of fresh tomato’s or like photons on the eye. We rise with the gravity of desire to connect, to meet, to have and to share. We rise at the behest of the many aboard this half sinking ship called life. We rise sometimes only to hope, or to taste or to fantasize or to rebel. We rise not alone but under the constant pull of love and desire. The love for our soul, for others, for the warm sun on our flesh, or taste of pure water. For the chance to make a lover smile outrageously or to be gobbled up by a burgeoning desire. I dare your mouth not to water when you remember a tasty desire or to withhold a smile while remembering the fragrance of your lover! I dare you to resent the weight of their drenched and languid body or the narcotic sleep following those sweet and spent desires. I dare you to not see when gazing into the limpid eyes of your lover. Or to turn away from a final embrace. Don’t be so daft when saying goodbye that you miss out on a broken heart. It is there that you’ll find the song on your lips that words ever fall so short. (at Parc del Laberint d'Horta)

[devanhadlock]

Last night around 8:25pm in a sleepy village in the stradfordshire moorlands of the United Kindgom I escaped under the cover of night from the old rectory home of a nutty English woman. This is the story of what led up to the moment where I throwing my bags together and kissing my two Italian co-captives farewell before running off into the darkness with just hope enough to light my path out of my personal Stockholm and back to freedom. In coming to the United Kingdom exactly one week ago for my first ever workaway experience I had every expectation to be pleasantly surprised. I now realize I had totally imagined being taken into some warm embryonic mist of the motherland of some of my ancestors. That this great island of Avalon would bless me with some magical experience of coming home. I imagined warm English breakfasts and naps on the backs of giant shire horses as they walked through the crisp layers of mist that flow across this ancient land like rivers of ghosts lit by the glow of their fairy souls. I did not imagine I’d be starving, for company and for food, and that I’d risk frostbite on my toes each time I awoke and ventured out of my stone room to take a piss in the middle of the night. I didn’t imagine feeling so much anxiety all the time at the prospect of our host showing up or of having to spend even one more day there. Anyway I got the fuck out. As I sit here in my makeshift bed on the ground of the single most filthy apartment I have EVER seen but under the warm hospitable blanket of one of the sweetest gentlemen I’ve ever met I wonder and I write. With itchy eyes and sputtering coughs as I suck in the balls of dog hair that float about in lieu of fairies and friendly ghost orbs I listen to Taveners beautiful choral piece that was written and played at Princes Dianna’s funeral “Alleluia. May Flights of Angels Sing Thee to Thy Rest”. A more perfect score of my momentary reprieve doeth not exist and I make solemn my promise to record henceforth the soul of some of my journey. How to make sense of this already harried and frenetic tale. Going back one week ago when I arrived to the Airport in Salt Lake City, Utah. Carrying a rare methuselah bottle of hope I dug up in the vintage cellar of my soul sometime in the recent past and maybe two gallon size bags stuffed with vitamins and herbal supplements I found my way to the security line. A look of stern and stubborn determination etched onto my face I walked in the broken procession towards the X-ray death machine. Of course I was pulled aside and asked about the 5 thousand pills of various size and color I had on me but it was the abundance of skin care products that ended up being the real problem. Apparently more that a one quart bag of properly labeled and sized liquid toiletries is too much. If TSA isn’t a sure sign of how backwards we got everything in the world right now I don’t know what is. Anyway my choice was to toss my highly valuable products and basically let my face melt into its true age over the next couple weeks or check on a bag. Something I really didn’t want to do but was basically forced at gunpoint. Getting in the air for my grand adventure wasn’t all cupcakes and rainbows. In my rush to salvage my precious pills and toiletries by checking them I didn’t clarify that I was going to London after JFK so my bag would have to be retrieved and checked again before boarding the next plane. I stress about these sorts of things so was having all sorts of physical symptoms of major anxiety for that flight. Thankfully two Jet Blue stewardesses were there to sooth my soul and guide me through what I’d have to do to get my bag and such. After many hours I made it to London where my host was graciously waiting to pick me up and take me home with her. My first impression wasn’t so bad and I was blissfully hopeful that my journey was off to all the right outcomes. Quickly though things changed when upon arrival I found two other workawayers there with looks of foreboding secrets written all over their faces. Still I went to bed that first night in the freezing cold 200 year old home all smiles and dreamy imaginings. That next day while cleaning out farm sheds and scrubbing dog shit off the pavement with brooms and washing it away with dozens of hand filled buckets of water all in the bitter wet cold wind I got to question these girls and gather information. They too had been pulled in by the quick responses from this host, the magical photos of her old world home and beautiful animals and perfect ratings from past workawayers. They were miserable and had fully regretted there coming to stay. They told me to find a plan B! Unlike most hosts who provide home cooked meals on all the days you work this lady eats like an old spinster bird by herself high up in her room above all of us and stocked the fridges and freezers with expired food she bought at great discounts according to the tags she left on all of them. Her moments of interaction overly chirpy and insanely expressive barely covering like a thin veil the volatility and social strain underneath. She did her best and I’ve edited this post greatly over the last two days to be sure that I could commit to whatever level of drama I was caught up in within myself, as regularly happens. Alas I toned it down. Still though the choice to leave for me came like a burst of lightening while sitting in my room in front of a floor heater mulling over the importance of preserving ones sanity. Upon finding the last bus to be coming through that sleepy village in only 30 minutes I rapidly set about preparing and planning my escape. Which included a serious text to my new online friend cashing in on his offer to provide sanctuary should this sort of moment arrive. Our host arrived just then which made my escape even harder but I made my way down the dark stone staircase with all of my bags while my Italian girlfriends distracted her in the kitchen. I was determined to not spend not one more night where I felt so uneasy, depressed and hungry. I slipped on the stairs and bruised my arm catching myself on the hard stone. Thinking for a moment of all the things I’d like to clean up or get done before I leave like any good Guest but decided instead to not be sabotaged. My heart beating in my chest and nervous system in flight I had flashbacks of my years of delinquency and devious behavior in my youth where my brain not fully developed basically left me at the mercy to more crude forms of navigation. Not always a bad thing mind you! It was exhilarating and I felt alive! Our host could appear in my path at any moment or scream out like a siren behind me like all the heads of Momba do in “Return to Oz” when Dorothy has been discovered as an intruder in the closet of the mad witch queen and escaping from her palatial prison. Anyway I got away, leaving only a simple note on my bed saying goodbye and thank you. I’m rather pleased time left me only enough time for succinct writings. It felt more elegant somehow. Fast forward two hours later and I’m at another stranger’s house on Stoke on Trent expect this time the feeling is of instant warmth. I was given warm food and made generous offers of where I might sleep and kept up almost all night by fun and interesting conversation. The apartment turned out to be the filthiest apartment I’ve perhaps personally ever seen but inspired by such genuine warmth and hospitality from someone who only knew me for three days and online I felt more that excited to get to work doing something I’m brilliant at. Cleaning and organizing. Runs in my blood. So that’s what I did for ten hours today. Cleaned half of this place up to a mint shine better than when he moved in. That’s what he said anyway. Also as a side not his dog is handsome and brilliant and all the confirmation I needed that I was in the right place! My hope in humanity is restored and my opinion of this country has gone from negative 2 to a positive 8 out of 10. That’s the power of true hospitality and perhaps a dose of saying yes to thoughtless but pivotal action. Till next time

[devanhadlock]

The noise of pain doth cause me To stir and shout in vain A handsomeness forgotten beneath this wretched form No peace within the ruins No calm to stave the storm Against such powers I shudder And writhe and grasp no more

[devanhadlock]

Dear friend, Thank you for texting me a reminder just now to take time to look up at the stars. They are magnificent and under their unbearably subtle weight I found my heart aroused. A flash flood of warm blood across my dry and dormant body. A sure sign of the beautiful things to come. It felt as though the heavens were longing to make love to me so hard that if I would just give it the smallest sign, even the slightest reciprocation of its dazzling advances it would move upon me with matchless speed. It threatened to overwhelm my subtle being with such unimaginable responsiveness that I'd forget where my skin ends and where the waterfall of its cosmic body begins. No, it would simply erase any thought of our difference. For the briefest moment I gave myself to it. I let my lips part and my eyelids relax and while I shivered there its vision filled me up and drenched me in dark red and blue diamonds that sparkled with a light of their own. Miniature versions of every living thing that has ever lived or will live poured forth from my open chest like jewels out of a bottomless treasure chest. And then I was just there, looking up at the stars in my pj's and spectacles. The air is sure sweet tonight and as I walk back inside I almost see in my periphery the dozens of creature melting back into the night. A angelic commotion, a woolly mammoth, a white moose and royal stag with antlers as large as kings, a great lion and a herd of horses bounding across a eternal landscape with the Milky Way in their big black eyes. Going on forever in my soul. What is this holy space that prophesy's my arrival? Oh friend, I needn't an answer. You walked with me in my desert from time to time and know as well as me the futility of running with words. What once is given and fully had, can never quite ever be taken back. We both do learn to listen. (at Kamas, Utah) 9/21/17

[devanhadlock]

Strawberry Moon 6/9/17

Woke up at 3am with some wicked mania. Going down rabbit holes, searching for words, clarity and answers to our times. Composing disorganized and frustrated responses to imagined future conversations and arguments, as I do. Along the way grappling with the terrors and delights of any who would dare dance knowingly with the fundament.

Schizoid, paranoi, obsess, depress, philandros of time

Alas, after hours of treading those endlessly turbulent waters of my mind, I went outside under grandmother willow, determined to expulse these bespoken demons of mine. To the moon above and inside I turned. I am a sometimes and regular lunatic you know. A brighter and fuller moon I can but hardly remember. She ebbed and flowed in her silvery glow as I ebbed and flowed in my lengthy prose.

I was as sincere as a drowning man. Cognizant of the depth beneath me and the breaking waves around me. Could I have sunk the buoyant moon with me at times I probably would. Destroying half of what I might come home too if I survived my own flood. Perhaps she wouldn't mind though. She who's rule extends from the heavenly firmament above to the instinctual ground below and beyond.

"Luna" I called out "White Goddess and mother of my soul. In this, my inner sanctum, I come to you with woes."

From the profane to the mundane to the profound I made the rounds. Circling about the dark grounds within, trying not to cross lines but failing entirely. What might have been a visionary spiraling inward towards some center felt more like the chaotic weave of a widows web. With some forgiveness and grace one might glimpse the Orb weavers mark in that chaos. Something to catch my nightmares or my nourishment. Unpack that as you will.

"Give me great weaver the tapestry of my lives. Let me touch the frayed edges and observe the torn lines. Let me hold the Gold Thread that connects all, in and out of time. And may we weave together what Destiny is mine"

I asked her of such things as destiny and figured she might have something useful to share on the topic. Was she not extruded from this body eons ago. Cast out into the darkness of space and cursed with some loneliness I can barely speak of? Haunted I am like this Grandmother Willow beside me. Is she not also the reason I sit here now to ask and write of it? Evolution would not have been so without her reliable revolution. She the dame of nurseries, the Moon.

Of the reality of not letting go despite needing too, I spoke. Sharing my fear of insanity, of abandonment and so much more that cannot be discussed here.

She only gave me her blessing, silently and with great reverberation, and in a moment I briefly glimpsed the fantastic magic of circles. Just a glimpse

Mighty is her power who stirs the ocean to rise and those peculiar flowers to blossom. I prayed she do the same for me. "Hold me in your attention that I might open when it is time. May all of creation speak to me those messages you and Father would have me hear. Lend me your unerring skills that I may not be confined by my own understanding. For what I know of destiny is this, that all shall be free, happy and kind and rest on still waters from time to time"

Steady she glowed with her drawn out pulse. In moments a fear of her betraying that part of me that is feared by many and welcomed by few. Her own brightness but a reflection belying her introverted nature. A side unseen by our eyes but perhaps closest to the wise stars beyond.

Tread gently intrepid sojourners lest we spend ourselves before we are done. True is your compass that guides you to you

[devanhadlock]

#1 The first in 'A Series of Love Letters' In the mirror of memory I saw you peeking out at me. Do you remember, my love, casting your gaze toward me and losing yourself in blushed valleys? I do. I remember with blazing clarity those hands of yours landing on the small of my back and teaching me all there was to know of gravity. Moving across my awkward shape and reading like braille the stories of my life. I could tell by your sounds how much you enjoyed what you discovered there in those esoteric tales. You were always adept and wise. I hope you know I enjoyed you just as much. Our alchemy turning us to gold. The sweetness of it be dammed as I crawl into empty beds. As I eek out my lonely life in my head or turn to laugh with you and find but empty spaces haunted with the sounds of my own echos. Closed eyes are sometimes the only way I find you. Can you see me too? I remember the look in your eyes betraying the fantastic contributions you were making in this silent film of ours. Filling in the spaces and enriching the tales in ways I’d have never imagined on my own. Such was our communion. Waters flowing up from the ground of our skin and washing the doubt from every moment found not by your side. How would you always know where we last left off if not that we had once shared eyes. Mine the left and yours the right. No continuity was lost with each new beginning and my breath could hardly contain it all. Not that beauty would be so contained. Like the perfume of a thousand wildflowers we have cast our love upon the winds of time. To the highest reaches and the lowest bottoms we have been carried by our mutual longing to become acquainted and dissolved, acquainted and dissolved. Lured by our temptuous ethers we have been inhaled by Gods and Beasts. Sneezed out, we took flight like two crazy crumbs from a canon and they intoxicated rolled about in our meadows. We have hitched rides on the backs of the Bees! They welcomed us into their sacred chambers and initiated us in the great mysteries and fed us with mead. What dances we did learn! You and I...eyes locked while the Universe spun around us. Do you remember our distant home, where the heavens kissed our thrones? Or the desserts we will cross in time to reunite when all unfolds.... Each time I have allowed fear to rip me from our keep I scream aloud to remember. That our star would guide me home if I would trust its distance pulse. Stepping faithfully, eyes on the horizon I feel your inklings in my soul. In time this story will probably come to a close. Two bodies becoming one soul. Till then I must live as if it was the most natural thing for me to do. As if my heart had nothing left to lose by loving. As if my very thoughts were your own clever way of calling me home to you. Sooner than later I pray, my love, we come home.