A torrent of words
I was trying to find
An essence and found
No essence
Except the search
And my
Trying to
Ignite in to light
The darkened spaces
For the dawning.
After all that,
Nothing is the same,
Although nothing changes.
In the chaos of my life
Sometimes a beacon glistens
It has before
Though the lumen
Does not come often, and is
Often faint,
But my rays, my synesthesia,
All the whos I am
Now mix in with
This new chord of light
I carry one afternoon,
Pale bronze against
Gentle disappearing mountain,
Alive as western miles,
Mountain miles,
Sweep of plains miles
All spooled into vast,
Whole for you miles.
The clock stops one beat
Mid-motion
Homeostasis.
Early mid-December ‘19
Sent from my iPhone
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