One at a time

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.