Where We Used to Walk
Champagne light filters through treetops.
Dew-dropped grass shining like diamonds
Beneath the few meager rays of morning.
I draw the ether deep into my lungs,
Scents of pine and damp tree bark
Dance in the air around me.
Twigs snap beneath my sneakers
As I sprint down the old trail
My grandfather and I once walked.
Slowing ever so slightly,
Planting my hands firmly
On the horizontal corpse of a fallen tree.
Legs swinging smoothly,
Like a gymnast in earth-bound flight,
I vault over the obstacle, feet first
Into a forgotten past.
The Fossil of Him
he was raised by silhouettes
in the desert, watched them
stay dry by bending raindrops,
so he set his feet upon the void
within spectrums of sight,
that hollow place where light turns back,
and fell into canyons of empty air
and quicksand oxygen.
as he waited for gravity
to prove its worth, he thought
he could learn to live in caves
and set a fire after impact.
but clay can't raise a flame, so
he hopes he can wait for
texture to erode into glass,
then someone can dig deep enough
to sift the oil that splattered
from his veins onto the shards.
maybe refinement will cause
the fallen to rise in the embers
floating from the elements.
he doesn't know, they fight wars
to win the dead and the victor
is never the owner of gentle hands.
Dream lucidity, blending memory.
A single moment,
That's all it takes.
Flush and enamored
with the synchronicities of the mind.
{Innately energetic,
beyond conscious choice.}
... Inevitably to follow - the taking over
Of the entirety
Of our physical forms.
A smirk, a smile, call it what you may -
but
only visible
to the sets of eyes
locked on each other's.
No moment under appreciated.
No bit of beauty unnoticed,
No part unloved.
No words without depth,
No silence without yearning,
growth,
infinite gratitude...
Transcendent realms
leave no space
for anything but
opportunity and potential.
