Chasing the Light

Her neck stretches tentative

Unsure of the warmth it seeks

She once cried for the door to open

Humbled by the circle turning

She has gone to ground

dust seeping

The building block of simpler things

They will say that it was pillage

travesty

The End

They will be wrong

Now I am everything

shrouded in fog
I wish he would skip the exit and keep driving west

Wrapped in this indie artist graveled voice
Slowly lamenting wisdom

to find a hill upon field to leave me

suspended

But the exit has already been taken
The sun already rising
Silhouetting black the world

And the end of the song must be heard

winding windward
the acolyte, the novice, and me
she sees the break in the mist
To Believe
Whisper
this grain of sand is everything, nothing
needs no name for existence
the light on the landing

I am walking the hills again
I am calling the owl
It is dusk and I am barefoot in the cul de sac
This long light remembers forward
And wonders in reverse
In the shadowy always
no shoes required

Collision
Tomorrow we return to the beginning
The crack in the marble altar
The light on an obscure goddess’ face
The clear blue air of altitude
Laughter ringing the valley

A million possible lives etch across my palms
And Hadron might change the signature,
let water flow through this rock in the stream

Truth
we are atoms split at birth
the fusion of which is the reason of our existence

Cut the string
I suppose you gave me the only answer you could

To cut the string too tightly tied

The one I anxiously worked to keep attached to my person, the one that kept my spellbound stare skyward

Only way out of the knot really, but the sacrifice left me adrift as the tug upward on my wrist was suddenly released

A pure white globe Mylar helium drifted, backlit in sky, weaving upward to the tower room in the storm clouds, to serve another imprisoned soul

Now all my concentration seems focused on the jockey for space amongst diesel driven towers playing tortoise and hare,

Destination Unknown

Still, the pull home becomes apparent in an earthen gold dust lining the streets, all seeds eventually blow from the roots that feed them

An ushering journey to the mystic, Your hands flow out like water

In physics, the two-body problem is a matter of calculating the paths of objects in orbit around each other.

The trick the horizon plays, magnifying the setting moon

Such is the intimacy of epic space

the incredible lack of evolutionary evidence for flowers suddenly appearing.

Momentarily caught in vases on tables, the sad reminder of those who have gone

to catch glimpse of solidity in the sand whipped streets, veiled

to dare the oppressor with desperate letters of escaping hope

A solitary tear stalling along the apex of a still smooth face

Is the birth place of existence in barely contained salinity

Thus the translucence of skin at the gates of existence,

We span a life slowly losing everything we gain to survive...

finding each other

so we might fit through the door we were born to walk through