Fall leaves in cyclonic spins rustle through the storied concrete cave, chasing strays and stray thoughts...
Anchored, while watching jets arc from the tarmac beyond - as if shot from some massive, modern Mongolian longbow. Cutting through the leading edge of black storms, the endless wet of dark waves crashing through my afternoons and evenings. A hundred giant arrows launched ceaselessly into the calling void, imagining they safely deliver my thoughts to distant realities.
Maybe a tiny piece of me with each one, to one day be gathered up again as I explore those obscured latitudes so impossibly far away... My life moves in a fractured perambulation suggesting something sacred slipped. A ghost in my own reality as my mind constantly flies past this constant crushing of steel and stormy sky.
A tight rope, a slacked line, a thread well frayed and blowing in the ceaseless wind... Those few hours recapture the light, the warmth, the fading glow... Seeking to braid the fray, numb fingers chasing the numb mind, remembering solid knots to sustain a mobile, fluid anchor far beyond this prison of reflected light...
No comments:
Post a Comment