Dandelion Spores

Remember, when it meant something to you, to hope for the hopeless, to dream of the impossible, to imagine that a crazy wish could come true? When there was no chance at all, so you just let it ride on one deep breath, with nothing to lose but an exhale, the whole thing as cheap and flimsy as a lottery ticket you found in the grass. That’s what this is, my prayer, the bargain I made with God to give away my eyes just to touch you again with the only sense that matters, just to hold your hands and whisper I love you, over and over and over so that those words lift off like spores in search of other lawns, and other children with wishes that are just as impossible as mine.

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10 thoughts on “Dandelion Spores

  1. Intense and revealing in that we should pay attention to the whispered wishes we make on a daily basis…therein lies the sometimes glorious and sometimes painful truth

    • Give what up Daniel? Love? The idea of loving? Desire? Wanting? Wishing? Hoping? Believing? And why shouldn’t I want more of such a love? I’d be a fool to throw it away, which I did, which I was. But my love lives on. My love is what it is. I can only speak my truth. We can let go of attachment without having to let go of the love. True love, unconditional love, is love without attachment. But the heart yearns, doesn’t it? The heart speaks. I choose to listen. Not necessarily act, but to pay attention and honor that.

      • No. Not love. Love should give joy, not pain. This love once gave you overwhelming joy. Now it brings you pain, unless I am misreading what you have written now and before.

        On the other hand, “you have to pay your dues before you can sing the blues”. And you’re words sing beautifully.

      • The pain I experience is of my own creation. The love still brings me joy, it is my attachment to a story, or to forms themselves, that causes the pain- the attachment to anything from the past that is *not* love. My new awareness recognizes this, but the result of that awareness is not instantaneous. This is the process. Missing implies wanting. Wanting is egoic. These are the death throes of the ego.

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