TUNNEL LIGHTS

I need you. You don’t have to say anything. Just sit next to me while my mind retreats into itself. You don’t have to do much. As I talk and talk and talk the fact that you are there (even if you may not be listening) is enough to comfort. I don’t need flowers, or candy, or any of the things that young lovers desire. The little things mean more to me. A person can only live life one second at a time. You being you is enough for me.

I need you. As I contemplate Matthew 15:18 raise my hand and decide never to swear again. When I fucking stumble you don't shake a finger, or chastise, or even make known my folly.

I need you. When I meditate on the Chandogya Upanishad book 6 verse 3,2 and I decide to paint my fingernails all different colors and die my hair to match. (Even if you laugh) you let me be me.

You provide input to my examination on Ananse. Should he have been given the Sky god's stories or his wife? She was the one who told him how to trap the leopard, the hornets, the python, and the bush spirit.

I need you to be you, just you and nothing but you. I need you not because I want you. I need you not just for my own selfish mental or sexual needs.

I need you because we are like a saxophone and its player. A songstress and her voice; a painter and his brush.

I need you because together we are a work of art.
©Christopher f. Brown 2007