In the Stillness... the Artist touches my Soul

The ARTIST

“Hello…~.”

His salutation opened a dialogue of quicksilver arrows from my copper quiver.
I felt reflected in his mirrored noble shield.
Futile sparring, whilst he knelt at the shimmering lake of alluring repartee.
His own weapon was left hanging in its wooden carved scabbard.
In the high oak limbs, his sword, swathed in roses and ivy, swaying in the breeze,

I imagined soft full lips that sipped liquid moonshine, cupped by his beautiful hands.
Even as my first salvo’s missed their mark, he took his time to wet his brow.
Patience in the deepest eyes, from the heart of a child, elusive if ever searched.
His responses melted any stony heart, as he drew me in with tenderness.
His features were stillness itself, beneath which pulsed overwhelming emotions.
I recall the first time I discovered him, a magical ascent to private mountain valleys.
I stared at the photograph, and felt an instinctual epiphany.
A lighthouse beacon couldn’t be brighter than the fathomless thoughtful, dark gaze that shrouded the colour of his eyes in greenish gold pools of sombre shyness and privacy.
Excruciatingly beautiful - an assault to the soul via the senses ...
That to me was the first moment of setting eyes on this inscrutable creature.
His sullen almost shy pout simply took my breath away.
So this sphinx could be my soul-mate, a silent symphony echoed.
The recipient of privileged love tokens was willing to sacrifice tranquillity forever.

There is a sensual broodiness that is simply magnificent in the enigmatic Artist.
A ‘doubting Thomas,’ he had no idea of his own fascinating beauty.
His quiet, strength was like brilliant sunbeams, to my eyes.
His tenderness rose from a fountain of pain, comprehension and soft urgings.
A fascination with sensuality inspired within, a multilayer of earthiness and passion.
When touched by his illusive spirit, kindness left a feeling of soul-ember warmth.
Control, soft restraint, and beguiling tenderness such emotions are only possible in a true individual; delineated by the twinkle of his deep set hazel eyes.

Sunlight broke through hazy grey clouds.
I shivered knowing our first predestined ‘hello’, inner turbulence would quell.
An elusive chalice revealed as perhaps initial fascination, ripened to a spiritual quest.
A delicious sip of warm awareness as his face lit up by the magnificence and intense glow of the spirit of someone he become enamoured by.

When it spills, fears fade as if rain splashed and mingled all the bold colours.
Through his warmth, his lack of artifice, and his genuine humbleness, Life felt joyous.
Just memories of his spilt emotions blended colours to swirl into luscious rainbows.
The first time I had heard his voice, he stammered, shyly.
In that second I was completely charmed and under his sweet spell.
Entranced I smiled forever recalling it, and evermore it would be remembered.
His soft murmuring whispers commanded my senses to quell inner queries.
Though the stillness of icy air chilled the mood, his voice had amber tones.
It felt as if warm pink gold to silvery bluish waves, surrounded us.

A throaty whiskey laugh and a voice modulated perfectly for romantic exchanges.
I discovered mutually exchanged moments like bonbons...
When I am away from him, I remember such tantalising episodes - simple - for an apparent lack of artifice.
Perhaps I was too busy toying with artificially strung cultured pearls.
If so, then he was the Oyster... creating his own unique symbolic perfection.

It is the delicious appetising taste of succulent possibilities...
His appreciation blossomed in stages, which showed his surefooted moves.
To prepare to execute in equally memorable feast to all his senses...was a challenge.
His spontaneity was marked by degree of intellectual precision.
As curiosity about each other grew, a poetic melody, initiated imaginative play.
Our lives would intertwine and slowly evolve entirely differently had we not met.
Few individuals made such a lasting impression on me.

His gentle strength and presence forced a transformation in my entire being.
Swift shadows devoured by moonlit corners were less frightening.
Observance of simplicity in such tremulous lyrics flowed.
His penmanship, quelled even the most unruly thought.
A charismatic creature with creative skills that left me in awe, he prepared his fishing rod, and succulent bait, as a lure.
My impressions would hereto be guided by subtle influences that included him.
He would engage in different degrees of masterful dialogues, to charm softly.
Sometimes the swiftest tactic is no tactic, just a kiss.
Alluring inducement such as a tantalising aperitif, may have bought him greater amusement for he found a distraction in the challenge itself.
Where other men hesitated, he discovered that he stayed a little longer, and sipped his Chablis with the appreciation of a connoisseur, as he cast his line.

From this moment onwards, I would find my internal clock matching his timelessness.
I would admire how he constrained his own animal instincts, within him.
Irresistible intellectual gratification in his art intensified his words.
His reality is always about being genuine, and without frivolous agendas.
His power of creatively renewing himself through such craftsmanship, developed.

He was opening his beautiful hazel eyes to the cold daylight.
The second he woke up, no matter how far apart we were, my tempo changed.
I knew in an instant that he had arisen from a dream.
I paused, and listened intently to his waking change of breath, and smiled inwardly.
I felt that his eye lingered at a wall or a ceiling that surrounded his reality cell.
I imagined that to vocalise was impossible for him.

The Artist was troubled.
The days’ colours merged into their own distinct hues: hurting his eyes.
He felt surprised since it was a grey; he could have been anyplace.
His city forest of cement and metal, led to a winding lane to the edge of woodland.

Thinking of me, his whole being for a moment felt awakened and he hesitated.
Fish scales, of metallic shades of golden apricot married with green-copper pastels and he tensed his jaw, as he stared intently into the dark night’s ocean.
He felt that intense broodiness so familiar to him start to envelope so that he shivered.
Royal dungeons of distilled emotions to other cavernous areas were hidden.
I knew part of him was always sheltered from those too shallow to enter.
Like a haunted romantic of each of our collective consciousness, he was ambiguous.
Ensnared in depths of tangled heart strings, he seemed distant.

Agonising soul searching seemed almost playful, even as pink rose petals singed with bronze fell around us.

Heartstrings that I would wish to disentangle from his brow.
Just as he freed his spinner baits and prepared his pretty bass-lures and fishing rod.
To smooth that ebony lock of his hair that sheltered his eyes from an inquisitive search.
In his own space angling, he comfortably managed to get by in perfect silence, save the dragonflies and moonlit sea ripples.
His outward silence was in sharp contrast to an inner voice that was turbulent at times. He was daydreaming peacefully, escaping from the mundane.
I shivered; perhaps we were linked by some kind of invisible wave.
It felt as if we fused our emotions along an emotional string.
It felt as if his heart strings pulled, I followed, the urgings, and lifted my head.
Hearing his thoughts mingled with mine, in a private, gentle dialogue.
As he left a room in his own space and time, we touched from a million miles away.
The smile that softened icebergs now felt; the senses heightened to fell an oak.
Humour on its own is one dimensional.
Humour as a facet of a multidimensional personality, is exciting.
It is intoxicating as another facet of a diamond-cut dialogue is possible.
One may yield to it with the willing submission of a prize bull.
An electrifying dextrous matador, strumming soul strings like a maestro!
A personable man he was averse to alienating anyone.
Yet despite willingness to be engagingly playful, there was an impenetrable shield.
An instinctual epiphany lowered the drawbridge every so often, to his hearts fortress.
To allow rare glimpses, velvet richness, crimsons, provocative purples pulsated.
A thoughtful day of liberating expressions and influential impressions was at play.

Here we are smiling at each other.
He seemed to watch me intently, as he sketched my features in polished charcoal.
Every so often the corner of his mouth would arch into a soft smile.
His chin tilted as his cheek rested on the knuckles of long beautifully artistic fingers.
The palette of colour he used was a poor match for the vivid hue, in his deep set eyes.
Below his tense jaw and pursed pouting, simmering a cornucopia of intense emotions.
An alluring kaleidoscope, of bewildering intricacies: in a secret chest of love letters.
I knew at some impermeable level that I felt infallible adoration
He arrested my creative consciousness.

An unresisting fascination, of his enigmatic, mellifluous personality, intensified.
His soft heartedness and quiet, gentle, melodic personality was calmness personified.
In contrast to any jaguar sneering passionate complexity, he seemed unperturbed.
I was mesmerized by his primal nature, masked by an urbane elegant wit.
His masculinity, and handsome, classic looks of timeless aeon’s man
And then there was his liberating literature, his passionate work.

He had cherished within himself and held close to his heart.
Over time, revealing it only when his trust grew in the Universe.
As I discovered such faith exalted - sheer meekness and pious self-effacing charm...
Qualities, those of humbleness, and humility, I found touched my very soul.
For me these were excruciatingly delicious to my long cherished conceptions of him.
For arrogance and conceit appeared ugly to my inner calm, and repelled me.
Inner completeness would forever quell the energetic nature that was dissonant.
I discovered that in our sometimes quiet solitary silences padding together an eagle that seemed to follow the shadow of a softly padding panther.
This is how it felt, as if we had equanimity.
Even passionate complexity simplified to whispered softness of unspoken understanding between us.

Observe the petals of vibrant pink tea-roses torn by their own thorns and feel the same.
As he sauntered along his routine paths, he felt familiar and comfortable to routines.
Yet very soon he felt the stirrings of an unknown scent.
Changes in the air, his nostrils picked up the rush of humidity and cloying moods...
He would very soon change as it struck a long overdue chord within him.
A gentle hum or whistle as he changed direction, that was always meant to be.
Then he would step out of secure shadows into bright lightening blazed pathways.
Evolving, naturalness, in our dialogue calmed the stormy waves of my restlessness. Calmness seemed to rein in any urgency that I felt and kissed away any dissonance.
I felt enraptured by the simplicity of his words that always seemed to beat with a meticulously timed metronome to my own rhythm.

Our language was richly haunting at times, and melodious sensuous messages.
A breezy banter that engaged both a light and upbeat tempo was only a glossy veneer.
Beneath such restful layers, almost medieval, dark magnificent beauty within him, enticed you.
Fierce matador tenacity in creative intuitions sought to seduce his bull like character.
His Life seemed touchingly severe.
His delicacy in nature beguiled you to embrace his spirit, and invite him in.
An excitement towards generosity: investing your self wholly in his cause.
His jocular wit would impress proving his cultivated, debonair intelligence.
An artist who was self sufficient could also be achingly desolate and lonely.

Romance, was never more distant than in the flicker of his slow fanning eyelashes.
A topaz sparkling tear drop settles un-glimpsed but by the privileged few.
Those who were blind saw only mystery dark brows, sometimes gentle broodiness.
Aurora Borealis tinted imagery could only exhilarate our self discovery with light and darkness.
Often, I would scold him teasingly, provoking the chromaticity intenseness of my own emotions depths, by his purity of rawness.
His soft whisper of subtle assurance, contrasted with my waterfall of encouragement.
The distraction of the timeless quality of our exchanges altered scenery.
My words fell like snowflakes might have on the flame gold leaf of his glances.
He created a snowstorm with subtle elegance in witty repartee.
I found myself growing snowflakes on his needle-pointed, richly sublime thoughts.
An un-melting snowball in white heat in the tapestry of memories sizzled.


“Will you ALWAYS be here?” I asked softly... without blinking, whispering his name even more tenderly.

“I WILL”.

... And then he asked,

"And you?"

"I AM", smiling, I replied, unswervingly, and soft enough for him to know it was true.