I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue...




It’s the shaving of the pencil that enthralls me….

...like the initial packing before adventure. Like the preparation before a splendid vacation. The excitement of anticipation coupled with the thrill of inevitable voyage is efficiently enough to create a sweet motivation to write. 

And, 

To repeat myself, 

It is in the shaving of that pencil that seals within me a joy that can only be found in the fleeting beginnings of wonder. 

And I’ve so wondered about you... 

From your first smile, to this next word, I’ve thought about you. And all the collected moments between bright smiles and scribbled speech have discovered in me every bit of longing and wanting to experience that light again. Your smile, that is, is of that stuff that stuffs me full of butterflies and stuff. And unlike Wilbur, I can sleep. Coz’ I'm good and full, with a ravenous mind that offers me snacks of you, buckets of dreams and pools of fancies.

I’m not too scared to sink. 

That is a very good reason for me to go on this voyage in the first place. To go at all. And by all accounts, I should really relay to you the truth of my fear. Truth is, I’m much more scared to swim than to sink. For the easy decent, that damp fluttering down into that blue and certain infinity will certainly finish off any doubts about the condition of the surface. 

I’ll weather our weather.

And whether calm, or stormy, or choppy, or smooth silks expertly reflecting the opinions of the Heavens, I find it shallow to be floating safely and sailing just above that intense deep. 

A lofty excursion is fine, but God, just find yourself sinking. Just once in this lifetime. Topple over the side-splitting laughter, waking up to the morning breeze she leaves, or the sprays of the seas you see and feel in him when he holds fast to those maps that stretch and mark across the atlas of your being. Those soft and smooth routes are drawn long and curvy. They swerve me and sweepingly lead on to marked spots that hold, probably, the same buried things as me. 

I dig you.

Differently, and at different depths, I’m found under the influence of your world. But all this piracy is trivial! There is no cavern so enclosed, no holds so entrenched, no cave on land nor in deep oceans hold space enough to hold the treasuries of your love. And deeper than merely Love lies the foundation of friendship. And under that is a floor I’ve found to support the weight of this crush….so deep…and deeper still I plunge for you and secrets of you...still deeper…



…to mysterious fathoms below…

Copyright 2009 Christopher O. Robinson

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