Today while discussing a conversation i'd had yesterday with a friend, I decided to take a little Stride. Via methods I usually take! Safely, slowly, and with a careful breathing exercise, I could hear the silent nature of the space I was in. The Glowlight Grotto, as I call it..
And only just before my eyes adjusted to the lowlight, I hear his voice, his approach. It is a soft greeting, a wave, a grab and kiss.. To the point. We began talking about the Rabbit Heart; a song he taught me years ago. The song is personal, and will not be shared.. But the discussion brought us into an emotional place. We talked at length. Holding, soft words, soft hands, and gentle inclinations..
I had been sitting long with Pan, discussing this and many things, many little nothings. Time came and went.. But he spoke up. Eyes glancing at me, "Nym," He says, my real name omitted. "Nym, why do you do this to me.. Ask me. Ask how I feel?"
I pause, looking innocent, my own medley of words ceasing, I had been yammering, chatting, and just.. I pause. "Pan.. how do you feel about me?" He laughs, then, a chorus of sound familiar, and yet distant. This was a prepared laugh, one I felt he'd been waiting to unleash.
"The way I feel it matters, not in the way it is spoken. But the way it is felt. The ways you feel me. The ways you let me dwell within your day. The times spent laughing and crying.. All of these feelings matter." He says softly, a hand outstretched to me. I take it. He pulls me in kindly and slow.
"A thousand times, you have asked for my attention, and have I not given it so?" He sighs and buries his face in my cheek, then neck, "I have a thousand words for every feeling you've ever given me, and still none would be enough to describe the way I feel for you." He sighs and looks at me, his eyes gleaming in the lowlit area, candles suddenly flickering to life.
The scene shifts and changes, moved across our little space, to his room. A cavernous space, within the Earth itself. And we sit upon his stone bed, cold, unyielding beneath us. I finally gather the courage, "Well.. now.. you know you always sing like a pretty bird to the other girls, the nymphs, and what not. Maybe I want to hear it too?" I feel a terrible heat in my cheeks. And he smiles, perfectly, like smiling is the only thing he knows.
"My little starlight, my audience is not my focus, my love, my ache.. it is happenstance. You are my maiden, my bride, my dear honeybee, Nym.." He sighs, "I would restrict their poetic indulgence for you, if that is what you indeed wish." I laugh at this, "Not on my account! I just.. I don't know I want to hear it too."
"You are my lifeblood. My favorite countenance, and the only reason you aren't here, with me? Is because you are there, alive, and awake while wandering..." To this I blush. "Would that I were here, in the truest way.. Would you say it, how you feel..?" He laughs again, a bellyful of it.
"Talk! Talk, talk, talk! Is that what you would have me do? Instead of baring my chest and sharing this feeling that you give me, in a way one can never imagine? I am a God, and a deep one of this plane, if you'll give me that.. I want.. I want to tell you these things. But oh, how I want to show you them, even more." He brushes my hair with a hand, and looks me over once more...
I leave the rest of this out, as it's a bit more personal. He humbled me. To not compare ours to things I see. Things I desire are less.. poetry and more the moments attached to the feelings I receive. The way he makes me feel. Perhaps I am the one feeling poetic.. I remind myself that I can make music with him. Make rhymes.. Prose. Pretty things are just pretty things.
Feelings of this ache, the love we share. It may last forever. At least a lifetime. I am prepared for that lifetime, and many thereafter. I would give my soul to Pan, so that I might know him always.
Things in life feel complicated at times, but I know he's there for me. With or without poetic verse!