Spaces between space

Floating
the flick of a mote drifting
into the nebula of a lost thought
and I sit aware,
so very conscious of the relevance
of time passing in those moments.
Water turns muddy
the passages between where it flows
coagulated and slow like a mind weary
and I scoop and drop by drop try
like rain adding just a bit more to loosen
and allow the dam to burst,
letting the rushing stream become,
yet it stands thick like molasses
cooling in the midnight hour
still never brought to its glory,
to run free and moving swift
so it lay silent
beneath a sun so far away.
Muddled memory reawakened
as the energy moves in reverse,
headlights in the distance passing
and the wind waiting to turn balmy,
we are left in this atmosphere of silence,
cooled and chilled by March that lingers
and in the darkness of night,
the jasmine calls to be honored
beneath a sliver of light,
there is a weight
heavy and cloying reaching out
and tickles the memory of what is now lost,
the empty spaces between space
where laughter sat,
she blooms suddenly after these years as if to say,
remember….always remember
and shine.

Dusted off

We shake it off, the cobwebs and dust of dreams

silently rolling in their hushed selves beneath afternoon naps

the prints of a thousand bunnies lingering,

bits and pieces and hairs brought to order

natures cast off voodoo dolls run rampant

dwelling in the corner-space of the post

where I left my mind momentarily

like an old piece of chewing gum.

I had forgotten where it was that I had left it

as I moved away the brick-a-brack to find

the goals that were sifted away unknowingly by time.

I feel the grittiness beneath these worn and calloused bare toes

tripping through the dark in the heart of midnight,

and while standing below the clouds beyond the door

I heard the voice gently chide

knowing it is indeed the time to move forward

and attach the message to the letter sent

to the universe.

Shake it off, these dust bunnies of thought

with the purple feather sweep away

and dive into the depths of fear to know

the path has been found once more,

and as the sage who came by post to find me,

she had spoken to my heart and I heard the sound

of laughter on the wind,

come child lets begin

and in picking up the pen,

dipped in the ink of a thousand thoughts

the page blank before beckons me,

the time is now

and there is NO turning back.

Upon receipt of an amazing piece of work from my beautiful friend Tre, her latest book has found me now all charged up and ready to set that goal of publishing my own first book. What a gift, for a friend to inspire unknowingly and in shaking off the dust after my afternoon nap, tripping on dust bunnies and finding a laugh, the time IS now. Not later, not soon, but now 🙂  A book review will be coming soon for A New Kind of Down: The Breath & Bones of a Writer by Tremaine Loadholt.

 

 

Like dust of dreams

I awoke in the home of a new world

bodies of fractured dust blown on endless winds,

storm clouds gather to wash me away

cleansing the soul of eternity.

Built on memories through time

yesterday speaks with a thousand tongues,

who we are

what we’ve become

just another piece in the spectrum of it all.

We climb to skies that seek us out

higher in thoughts we float on calm,

dappled skies in black and white

photographs and still life trapped on film,

turn page after page as day is through.

Where we’ve been we sometimes see

in the mind of dreams we chance to know

the truth of lives through a million years

caught in a raindrop falling down

reflecting our here and now

we know

it’s just a small piece

of the whole.