I counted them all,
slowly savoring the moment in my fear
of not getting to the end,
of leaving one forgotten behind.
This is what had to be done,
seeing the images that left my thoughts jumbled
like graffiti images on walls
wondering whose hand did create,
what pain was felt when the slashes erupted
in spray painted skylines of wonder,
whose soul could feel this deeply
and were they just another number I counted
on infinite hands.
Could I be as he or she,
living in this bottle contained of joy and peace,
carefully sprinkled like stars on the heavens
and dusting the earth with an Oz-like magic,
could I invoke that smile through tears,
when hope seemed like the midnight sky
letting no light in through steeled clouds,
I still counted them all for I could see
behind the curtain there lay
another like me,
and another and like Pi
going on and forward forever without end,
could I too grasp the immense constellation
of this thing we know as love
and acceptance,
and the glow of warmth filled as I asked
and I knew the sensation of falling into it all,
lost in this pillow of a thousand feathers
and buoyed by the collective
of the universe together
holding hands to catch me as I fell.
When there are no words to describe
the flight of a million blackbirds in the sky,
dotting the blue with such beauty
turning the sun into a speckled yellow robins egg,
cracking the sky open as they dive and soar
I stand in awe some days
by these things I’ve seen
and these feelings that drift through,
I count them all,
for they are all so important
to my heart,
to remember
for when I no longer can
I hope to know once upon a time perhaps I had.
Peace, Love and Patchouli 