Beyond words

I live in a world
beyond words stacked high,
life spoken in lines
layed out and reaching far and wide
to reach the piece
of a yearning soul
that dives in to find
buried treasure.
Page by page
driven by the scene,
in between
the lines we find
the realm imagined
in anothers dream,
living through the moves,
the words strike chords
like the vibration of all,
song of the universe
heard by those who seek
the tune
aware of something more
unseen yet known
by the stars.
Lifted higher into the story
for a moment becoming
someone not ourselves,
emotion changes in seconds
with each new tale,
we reach the end feeling sad
as the cover closes
and we begin again.

Blurring lines

Verbal valet gives direction
movement of hands beckoning to here
or there not in between,
red, white and blue banners
flap like flags below small white tents
and smiling faces thrust
paper fodder to your hand
and I smile and nod a simple no
for I know
as I walk that long road
and whisk myself into the formidable doors,
the decision made
blue dots highlighted on pretend balot
and the sweet elderly lady
handing out candy
as if it’s Halloween
and not the important event,
but a party for those who dare enter.
Cool corridors wind
and long lines flow as I walk the brick mile,
twenty from here
ten from there
and I stand and gaze at the faces surrounding me,
congenial chatting amongst strangers
and no one knows what choices will be made,
just a knowing that change is good
and I wonder what would they say
if everyone wore labels
I stand for this
or I stand for that,
would they be smiling still?
I wait my turn
filling in ovals,
brightest blue tictacs marked on a front back sheet
decorated with choices,
and the men and women around me
carry on in silence then,
their duty met as they walk to the machine,
feeding the beast with their hopes and dreams
and I add my piece to the mass
not knowing if it really matters or not,
but the fact that I am able
makes me feel good.

Participated in early voting today. Long lines of elderly men and women, I was the youngest person there at 51. It is Florida after all. Duty done and time for some relaxing me thinks. Peace, blessings and rock that vote folks!

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.