In between moments

I slip through the clouds,
the bulbous breathing clumps
like cotton in a blue cellophane bag,
high overhead in splendor
that lift my mind from the dirt.
My lingering room of dreams,
where I rest on the pillow of downy dampness
and wave my hand back and forth
up and down on invisible air
on car drives through the thickest night.
These creatures move like a flight of fancy,
carrying my moods like children unseen
and unheard waiting
for release
and these days yank my heart hard,
as I shake my head and wonder
why we cannot be as gentle
as the clouds above that move
in and around themselves
and bring comfort through dark days
when the skies grow stormy,
the culmination of time gives need
for the cleansing of the earth
and the minds of the masses
who have forgotten how to be kind,
how to be giving,
how to be human.
I need the clouds to carry it away
and pour the heartache into the space
of a tired world.
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Captured by illusion

We move in random theory
standing in the midst of a chaos
of sleepless nights beneath sullen moons
that stare into the abyss of dreams.
I had thought of living and dying,
being in the place of illusion
called upon in the forefront of a hasty life,
rushing through to reach the split
between stages of paths united,
I bristled where I should have found peace
in battering words set apart,
I did not ask for the foretold gift
of carrying the weight she gave
yet called upon the deeper well of light
I rose and moved away untouched.
Who dares to come to the sanctuary unasked,
an ​intruder of the mayhem brought forth,
I slipped into the quiet place
where dreams lay waiting to be found
and touched the clouds in secrecy,
those orange hued beauties rise
as the gentle sun sets down to ripple
the stream of consciousness forgotten.
How is it that we move away
from the comfort of a shallow pool,
dare to dive deep into the darkness
knowing we will surely rise again,
the lingering call of those unseen reach in
and in pulling me forth I wake to find
an escape back into the yesteryear
where the drama cannot find
the path I’ve tread upon,
and the silver light of a dying moon speaks
as I lie awake and wonder
what tomorrow will truly bring.

I know, I know…it’s been awhile, too long really but I have made great strides in utilizing my time in writing a very long story (67,000+ words and counting so far) that I hope to publish in this coming year. If you’re still reading, thank you and will be popping in sporadically as I can until work slows down (Still loving the job and the people it brings into your life) and the story gets finished. Peace and blessings and I’m still breathing, indeed. ❤ K

Falling style

Memories of falling leaves
as colors create a palette
we run our hands through the brilliance,
the scent of a winter to come
hangs on chilling air
as the fire reaches higher
incinerating the pieces gathered
we sit close together
remembering.
So much has changed
where those long ago days remain,
we gaze at the brilliance
of autumn sunset clouds
that wear the shades like gowns,
endlessly flowing by
we walk the beaches and find a new path
where time stands still
we follow our memories to smile again,
somewhere back in yesterday
a world away.

I miss the changing leaves of NY but not enough to fly North, enjoying Fall Florida style and endless gifts of beauty found along the way. Peace and blessings, K