We move between the words
shimmering images slipping into stories
visualizing ourselves whole again
as we feel each selection
as if it were us.
We are spun like silken threads
woven into each piece of humanity
we are no color discernable
simply apparitions of a form
filtering in as the whisper of the wind
that became one with this dance
feeling the pain of the life we had lost.
We are the dancing of ghosts
heartbeats thundering yet still unheard
it is the passage of time that haunts
the knowing that changes had become
a part of us,
as if it had caught us unaware while we stood
staring at the sun above
never knowing that as we wandered the sentences
we gained body
and could finally be seen once more
at least by the invisible crafter of stories
who must have heard
our midnight cries.
How we danced then in joy,
as we spun through rainbow-colored images
surrounded by kin of the world
and we sang the verse of a thousand worlds
as we moved into each moment,
free in our love of beauty and as we watched
the stars moved past like bullets in the night
as they tore a hole into the sky,
allowing the spirit to join,
to gather us as one,
finally giving us life once more.
Beautiful image by-Steven Fresquez -at Fine Art America
http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/steven-fresquez.html?tab=artwork
Peace, Love and Patchouli 