Serial tics
Steady progression
Pages flipping
Fluttering leaden
In muffled silence
Disavowing
The impermanent shelter
Of fading opacity
Serial tics
Feeble attempts
To disparage
The convoluted certainty
Of foreshortened
Conclusion
Serial tics
Steady progression
Slow procession
The march of
(anti?) mortality.
Slow drops
Steady perfection
A line of illumination
A rumble of dissent
But I do not care for
Unwarranted agreement
So I cannot disavow
This trembling joy
The cold
Succinct words
Of a worthy adversary
Wispy
Intangible
Grappling
To be solid
The moment when
The sunlight tints my vision
Blue, Purple, Orange
And I know.
I know
Until the darkness reembraces
The next stanza of a hitherto
Unwritten poem
The chorus of an archaic
Mantra
Reverberating onwards
The resonance
Changing my pulse
Epiphany
The formless inspiration
And I know.
I know
What I really knew before
But in today’s hectic fog
Forgot.
Racing
Pacing
Hurrying through
A slow-motion world
That never the less
Endeavors
To run faster than me
When I shut my eyelids
I imagine I can touch every continent
Imagine I can caress people half a world away
Outstretched arms reveling in
The dark clouds above me
The timeless ocean
The moon’s gravity.
The sea stretches vastly onwards
Empty
Eternal
Magnificent
Indifferent
Undisturbed and uncontrollable
Touching every continent:
Incarnate hope.
Strolling at my own slow pace
Books on my back
Wondering what it would be like
If I, like the wind that rushes through my hair,
Could drift
So many particles of oxygen and hydrogen
So many particles floating free
If I could swirl over amber fields and stir up the autumn leaves
If I could rustle through pine needles
And create waves to ride
If I could provide relief to some weary traveler
In desperate need of a breeze
If I could be the chill that runs down your spine
If I could soar into the heavens and alight in the skies
Traveling forever in forever’s own time
And somehow still maintain a semblance of my consciousness
The atoms of my being like neurons loosely connecting
those memories too precious to lose,
that otherworldly knowledge of flying, floating, living
Sensing without sight, sound, or taste, the sweet symphonic textures
Of the universe.
Intoxicated by the beauty of the clear night sky
Lost in the wonder of brilliant pin pricks
Against a hazy veil
Dazzled by simplicity
Too caught up to even breathe
Carried away in separate thoughts
I need to be let free
I need someone to take my hand
And lead me back to earth
It seems to me it’s been awhile
Since I last saw anything of worth
My heart it beats so hollowly,
It needs a reason to exist
But gazing all around me
I can’t help but think
This might just be it.
Footprints in the sand
There for a moment- solid, real.
I watch water rush into the cavity my feet have made
See the edges blur away
Simply a hole
A vague knowledge that there was once something there
But still the memory resides, no longer tangible,
That for a moment they made an imprint-
Full of hope, dreams, and ideas
That for a moment, the landscape of unchanging shoreline was drastically altered
By the possibility of life and with it knowledge
And in that moment the world knew of my existence
But the moment slips away
Buried by the sands of time
And gradually forgotten
Like the footprints and their creator
There is an enchanted forest across the street
A mysterious haven, in a world that’s concrete
Everything’s bright, color bursts at the seams
Of images so vivid, they are found only in dreams
The only way in is a passage unknown
Except to those most willing to be shown
It is but steps away from a path well worn
Yet miles from civilization is a paradise born
In the deepest serenity, life seems ethereal
Where mother nature mends our hearts and helps our lives to heal
Tis but a fine line drawn between blurry and distinct
Between the world of traditions and that of raw instinct
A fragile alternate reality whose fate is defined by the beholder
To remain eternally sunlit or wither into something colder.
And reflect
That I find it quite soothing
But I know that I wouldn’t
If the house I lived in were any less fortified
If the whisper of the wind felt like a gust and the walls around me shook
Would I too tremble in terror?
Could I ever truly enjoy the wind while cowering behind paper thin walls?
I doubt the storm would be able to lull me to sleep
Or hold the same sway it has now
I doubt the gorgeous lightning-lit sky
Would seem more than a threat of electrocution
The soft pitter patter
Would be deafening
When perceived by the ears of the drenched
Drowning out all the peace
That I have inside of my soul