The shape of red

Moments of certainty
caught in the clarity of a lucid thought,
the shape of red lifted from beyond
as the scent of cinnamon filled my senses
a thousand falling valentine hearts
dripping from above,
like falling leaves settling into a dish-
a season of letting go
captured and understood deep within
as I inhaled the essence
and faded back into the depths.
The color never preferred
over others I drew joy from,
the vibrant hues of yesterday but so much more
held deep in the hold of timelessness
and I woke while still I slept
seeing faces faded from thought,
leaving the wonder of why now
as I reached out to touch the pieces
of those tiny bits now scattered
hearing those in the scene laughing that joyful sound
all for the bounty I had found
but I threw them high above me,
watching as they scattered once more
then watching without a care,
the tiny pieces disappearing
like the illusion they had been.
They questioned me
and my need for not gathering them all
and holding them close,
keeping them for a rainy day
or some other such reasoning
but I did not know what then to say,
for they had all gone
into the whispering wind of yesterday
where nothing lasts forever
and in the letting go
I found the abundance held.
Have you found a cinnamon heart
somewhere in your travels,
perhaps on the side of a road
now dirty maybe
or faded from time,
could it have been mine
from the day I was small in a dream,
when I thought the world needed
more than I could give?
If so, I shall smile
and move on
and if not, just wait
perhaps in time it will come.

A steady stream of consciousness piece, in part some of a dream I had last night, still pondering that one. Maybe the small KitKat bar I had before bed seeping sugar into my aimless dream thoughts.