We can not always see
that which may be before us
caught in the shadow of a moments that slips
into itself and then into the hour full,
we weave a million thoughts in a heartbeat
like dreams remembered upon waking,
hazy recollections of this and that,
strange sensations of being there yet not
caught in the vortex of a mind so tired
we slip into ourselves like a well worn shoe,
feeling the imprint of where we’ve been
yet sensing where it is we are traveling to,
when we slip into the scene
we become the phantom mirage
poised on the verge of becoming
clearer with each passing smile and word,
understanding more than we can express
as we move through the jungles of this space
we gather our cloak about us,
our wistful shadow that always follows
wrapped around like the softest hug
we take those steps into the mirror of time
and hear the silence of a heartbeat so strong.
Beautiful photo by: Gerry van der Walt