Act 1
THE MAN I LOVE
The Commitment
Scene 1
THE CONCEPT OF ROMANCE
O my sisters!
I have met a brother who reminds me of the beauty
of the exchange of body, soul to soul.
O my sisters!
He wears the wings of white by which I fly.
Quietly his knowing eyes have led me to the hidden chamber;
silently his certain eyes have lit the way....
So once again behold the rising of the true love, Delia Fair!
The concept of romance shall co-exist with what is classic.
From his phoenix ashes, see how bright!
So shall all the archetypes that hasten to endure.
Forever shall his plunging eyes immerse you in the present.
Ever after I shall hear a pre-existing key of laughter.
Forever shall his arrowed words impale you to the truth.
Ever after shall I reap an antecedent key of weep.
He will summon stage fright eternal.
His example will demand you know exactly where you stand.
He’ll be the one to whom you say, “I do it all for you,”
and he will bind you to your word like no mortal man.
It’s the way he’ll read your mind
that’s going to force you to rewrite it.
It’s the way he’ll mend your heart
that’s going to make it surely break.
Like each leading road begins in Rome, Delia Fair,
like every river’s flowing back to where it came to be,
like any flower grows its way toward home, Delia Fair,
this man’s the destined source of every possibility.
When this mountain where you meet heaps up more steep
or weathers down, Delia Fair,
when the Earthly means to its ascension
has grown over or been worn away,
still there will be this elevation buried deep
or in thin air, Delia Fair,
this latitude and longitude between the sea and Stars,
their relationship to Venus, to the Sun and Moon and Mars….
Where primal lights from mountains rise
and ocean-set when leaving skies,
where fruits and flowers of every hue
wind entwined ’neath ceiling blue,
where roses scent the freesia waft
of sweet gardenias’ godly craft,
where feel of air is downright art,
and taste is salty, sweet, and tart,
where gentle beasts can feast on things,
and birds can sing immortalings,
where insects buzz and hum by day
and spark the dark another way,
where shade and shadowed stone recall
the sacredness of waterfall,
where rainbows burst from pots of gold,
and each and all one can behold
is Heaven-sent angelic scene
recalling primal human dream—
like Eve, who was her mother,
she met him there in Eden.
She met him in The Garden,
like her mother Eve had done.
The mirrored Moon slipped eventide
into the cresting waters;
the mountain morning harvested
fall’s golden Sunday-Sun.
The greening rain-made luscious
filled the stillness quiet;
the brooks leapt surely purest;
the day dawned more than light.
In the cloak of crisp November,
that’s where they had their meeting.
That’s where she ate the apple, yes,
because he gave her bite.
The Devil did not tempt her,
and the fruit was not forbidden;
it hung not on the Knowledge Tree
but on the Tree of Life.
Yet I cannot help but wonder
if innocence will blunder
into fires of scorch,
outcast by slice of knife.
Ah, but who am I to question
the ways of Higher Power?
Who am I to dabble
in a future yet unborn?
I only know she met him there
without design. To this I swear:
All signs were blessed;
she’d do her best—
Our mutual friend was with us
when we spent that day together
with each other for the first time
out of time’s eternity.
Not a syllable was spoken
of the secret code you’d broken
midst the early tribe of friendship
up at Eden-’bove-the-Sea.
I watched your honest eyes apprise
the bedroom of my being.
I heard your wakeful words infer
the headroom of my heart.
But we never took to touching,
nor acknowledged all your suching.
You acted who you only are;
I played my simply part.
And when we northward stopped a bit
beside your Orphic chariot
above your ocean crashing wild
and non-pacifically,
you watched my Cinderella foot land grand
into the snug-fit slippered sand
that you, O Barefoot Prince,
were holding out for me.
Time too swift transported us
to Eden-in-the-Vale. And dusk.
Then when you first-time crossed my door
to stained-glass shadowed, stone-cast floor,
a stranger welcomed warm, you wept:
You’d been coming home!
I sank to feel the depth you sank
to know we’d each soon be alone.
Across that fellowship we sought
each other’s eyes to say good-bye.
Amid the din of happy kin,
you said you’d be returning soon.
Transformed, I hastened to my room,
where instant wings burst through a door
I’d never even felt before:
My heart had need to fly!
And knowing you had taken me
in one forevered instant,
knowing for forever
you took me by surprise,
I bowed in veneration
to this fertile situation
that you, O Barefoot Prince,
were first to recognize.