Spirit

Do we measure our thoughts like spices

a little of this and a little of that

ground together to make new seasoning

new patterns of a shifting universe.

If I were to deconstruct Van Gogh to create an image

of where my thoughts reside,

would they resemble a cosmic eye watching

as the world transpires

moving round and round

in its usual way-effortless and without thought

just being.

I gather the things that make me smile

tucking them away in the star-dust cobwebs,

pilfering them away like a thief

for I know when I need it most

I will lift the lid and peer within

searching for that special something,

a sound, a scent or perhaps a memory of a faded dream.

As the incense burns out before barely beginning

the jasmine fills rooms of blue

silky smoke just enough to linger for me,

not enough to choke

and I am there again

yesterday when art and words and soothing days

eased by like a silent movie

and I watched in rapt attention wondering

where did those days go?

I swirl here in these thoughts

Starry night broken apart and reformed

into a new quiet peace

that finds me grateful

for its essence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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