Alan Ayers Art
And I promise to touch you ever so gently
Alan Maramag
That you'll mistake my caress for a swift breeze born for
the simple sake of blowing your troubles away.
You are safe child.
But if pain ever dare threaten the safety of our love,
Then I would grant you wings to lift your spirit above
the sky and allow your tears to free fall onto the face
of the earth, so that its children begin to believe that the
rain comes from an angel crying.
So let it rain, let it rain, let it rain and I will stand
a hundred miles beneath you with my hands lifted towards
the heavens collecting your teardrops in crystal glasses
of wine.
Because I believe that this love potion number nine holds
the remedy for time and just one taste would allow me to
love you forever.
What is a friend? Friends are people with whom you dare to
be yourself. Your soul can be naked with them. They ask you
to put on nothing, only to be what you are. They do not want
you to be better or worse. When you are with them, you feel
as a prisoner feels who has been declared innocent.
You do not have to be on your guard. You can say what you
think, as long as it is genuinely you. Friends understand
those contradictions in your nature that lead others to
misjudge you. With them you breathe freely. You can avow
your little vanities and envies and hates and vicious sparks,
your meannesses and absurdities, and in opening them up to
friends, they are lost, dissolved on the white ocean of their
loyalty.
They understand. You do not have to be careful. You can abuse
them, neglect them, tolerate them. Best of all, you can keep
still with them. It makes no matter. They like you. They are
like fire that purges to the bone. They understand. You can
weep with them, sing with them, laugh with them, pray with
them. Through it all--and underneath--they see, know, and
love you. A friend? What is a friend? Just one, I repeat,
with whom you dare to be yourself.
