… stil aand?

Vanaand het ek weer so verlang, in grondelose vrees van eie gryse eensaamheid, dat jy by my moet wees,

Nine months have passed since I gazed from my home towards these monoliths in the distance and they remain, as many others a taunt reminder that I am between the love of two cities. And as in times before I sit perched on the ridge that once was my home, with take-out coffee from my favourite 24hrs barista in Oakland’s ruminating the week that had passed. Or in my case, the few months that had passed between the festive season of the last year and the hope of a new beginning now. The excitement of new careers and meanings that seem to keep me moving forward, ever wanting the experience but tinged with fear and longing that always seem so very near.

Dat ek die wye koeltes van jou stem om my kan voel, soos die rimp’ling van die sommerreën vervlugtig oor my spoel.

Six months have passed since he came into my life. And like the Fish River canyon stands a testament to the course of nature, so the carving of his influence into my soul stands in the achievements of the past few months. Moments pass between us, with the promise of more, but in the blink of an eye it disappears like the mist blanketing the rolling hills of my childhood memories. He is like a ripe peach, picked from a low hanging branch on a hot summer’s day, the exquisite savouring of his intellect, his lips and his body always leaves me wanting more. My fear is that, like the auburn siren that once held my heart, he now shares it too but can never know just how much he means to me.

En toe ek deur die duister wind wat oor my huisie waai, die knip hoor lig, het heel my hart in vreugde opgelaai …

Three months have passed since he came into my life. And like the seasons have changed in between, so have I. The pursuit of happiness with him has become relative and while nothing is settled, the space between us has become comfortable. Moments pass between us, with the promise of more, but in the blink of an eye it disappears like the mist blanketing the rolling hills of his childhood home. He is like an ice cream on a hot, sultry summer’s afternoon; the exquisite savouring of his masculinity, his youth and his hard body always leaves me wanting more. My fear is that, like those before he has bewitched me with his ease and anchoring ways. Enough for me to believe I’ve found love.

Nou sit ons voor die vuur en speel die vlamlig deur ons hare … Lang waai die reënwind buite deur die afgevalle blare.

To be loved is, after all a state of mind.

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