A Love Story


once upon a time
a mindful poet
took a moment
seriously, by choice
sat down with it
and to it gave
his own first-person voice

speaking silent,
he proposed
“let me paint you
by number
letter you, suppose
immortalize your beauty
from you, in me, of us
within history’s keeping
of the things that ever mattered
keep us joined, reunioned, close
should humankind return
one day
to think upon me
it shall be you
they’ll always have
to recognize us most”

the moment paused and then replied,
“it cannot be
with me, you see
for I am not possession”


About Brandy Desiree

"Call on me, and I will show you great and unsearchable things you do not know." --Jeremiah 33:3 I am a seeker. A lover. A doer. A thinker. I make music, I dance often, and I laugh. It's all hilarious, really. Everything. Look around you. My children teach me a lot about life. I have five boys, and yes I'm out of my mind. It works for me though; I think this world could honestly use just a little more crazy. A lot of humanity's problems could be solved by everybody taking themselves a little less seriously. I'm grateful and alive; a constantly evolving creature, thankful for the sunshine and just as thankful for the rain... Visit my corner of the universe and share yourself! My heart could implode with welcome for you.

9 responses »

  1. But a free passing moment awakened, dawns new colours, passed from moment to moment till the moon seasons pass, at a time without choosing, hither words echo from the valley deep, I am not the moment, for these be the words held of once a moment past, echo in the painted colours as they fall fee upon the blue sky cast.

    Back soon, just not sure how soon…

  2. Brandy,

    I have been away- again. This time longer and deeper than before. Wasn’t sure I would regain my footing. Not sure I have.

    But here I am.

    When I am lost, I sometimes sit alone, in the dark, and listen to “Kind of Blue.” I have listened to this music a thousand times. So, in a sense, I know each note, each phrasing, each perfect silence, all by heart. And yet each time I listen, it all feels fresh, dramatic, and new. The music surprises me at each turn. It is familiar, an old friend, but at the same time, foreign and bold- every time.

    This quality of stirring and surprising us in our experience of the work defines, at least for me, what it means to feel the “art” in something. And what it means to encounter artistic genius.

    And so I come here. And like the mindful writer I am, I seek to capture what I experience- leaving this message for you. But you- and this work- are not to be captured, or pinned down, or categorized, or put into any box, or labeled in any way that comes from thinking and reason. The passage, and the poet who from whose spirit it came, are as one. You twist and turn, lyrical and sweet, then abrupt and hard. Elusive yet present.

    I cannot know where they came from, the poet and the art. I could write forever, with all my masterly powers, and get nowhere in describing them.

    So all I’m left with is the feeling of the encounter. It feels like too little, and then too much.


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