a hallelujah song

i was reading about, thinking about, dreaming about the traveler -- the beautiful one, the forever one, the almost-within-my-reach one. fierce, flawless. wise, willing. lost, found. my pages filled with directions (the paths unknown), my walls filled with maps (to the sea, to the shore), and life's eternal mysteries sprawled out in broken metaphors, and someone else's phrases, and my own interpretations. leaving is easier than staying, staying is harder than going, and my back pocket doesn't mind carrying the weight of a life of yesterdays while i go everywhere and anywhere to know myself and open myself and love myself. this fills me, fuels me, and forgives me in a way a lover never could. i replace pronouns (personals) with places -- he with the spot by the sea, she with the Rhine River, we with love inside a Brazilian bar. and, i indugle in the sway of a city, the pause between traffic lights, and the sun that paints me golden. i want the world to place her hands all over me, i want to seduce the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Mediterranean Sea, teasing tides and chasing waves. i want to climb into salty bedsheets, and kiss the moon, and romance the stars, and know why i'm here and happy and heartbroken and blown away and better off and begging for more. there's nothing else to call this but love.