A little reading

I can't resist sharing a bit from my favourite ... is it social networking?... website, www.goodreads.com. There is never, of course, enough time to read: perhaps the second-most-irrefutable fact of life. Having cute little book-cover tiles of some things I have read makes me feel (justifiably or not) somewhat less unhappy about this.

      From Amber's bookshelf: read
    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    

    
  

Amber Tucker's favorite books »






  

Dedication, or Expunging the schmaltzy crud from my system

... any of it that didn't already come out in the inscription poem, that is. 

This blog is for many people, whether you know it, or don't yet, or never will - whether I know you already or my life has yet to be graced by your presence.


Any thought and feeling may create a world; still (in my view), the best worlds are created in love. I cannot give a straight summary of the the continuous flow of inspirations I receive, urging me to shape my own tiny world with laughter and hope, with grounding reason and rare compassion. 

I do not know much to speak of, and I may not even know to whom I'm speaking it – to whom I am trying to prove anything, beyond myself. Whatever truth I do know springs from love, the unspeakable language, and all I post here will be various transpositions of that, into the words upon which everything hinges.  

Forgive me the sentimentality. You deserve great respect just for sticking with me this far. I promise, I will endeavour to honour you for it.  

And that, as Mr. Darcy would say, is the material point.

Inscription

Dear Reader 

Before the smoke 

has time to clear, i call out:

With love for the worlds of you i

have not met yet, 

for the kisses i feel others receive

in darkness, despite darkness,

from the honey and fire of your eyes

love for the places i go only 

through my fingers on the map

and with love, in the warm coals

of lyrics i try not to fall back on 

- but oh, don't they keep us 

from losing heart?

Vienna waits for you /

No, he doesn't look a thing like Jesus /

The times, they are a-changing...

combined bits of language 

surpass language itself 

and

finally, there is silence

and air and breath; it is here 

we waited all along,

wondering where we 

had walked ourselves to.

Yes, all those things

are not great; yet

they are for you, 

with love from the deepest 

 recesses of amber. 

Please accept them, 

please take my hand;

please let us breathe now, 

please let it be.