Run with the Wind

Walking alone down the hallway of memory
I find you there leaning against the wall
staring at the picture of horses running through
the fields I stand next to you and we both say
nothing at all At last you begin to walk alone
again Or so it seems I stand there staring at
the horses running with the wind

Learning to see

I was sitting alone on the couch as I felt the drugs
begin to overtake my senses. The music on the stereo
began to overwhelm my ears. I closed my eyes and
listened. Beat by beat I began to drift off into the
world it was creating. My eyelids closed and I fell
inside myself. This world was alien but familiar
enough that I could recognize the contours of it at
the touch of my hands. I steadied my breathing to
center myself. Remember, I chose to come here.
I came here to see what I needed to see.

Color. I could touch color. The feel of purple was
so much smoother than touching black or dark blue.
Yellow and pink felt like the smoothest colors to
touch but blue and green felt the most comforting.

All the years of my youth and school came at me
suddenly into a blurred continuum. How quickly
I let the years pass me.

Love. Receiving it. Giving it. Learning that it
must be given freely. It can never be a forced
emotion. It must simply be.

Waves. What beach is this? When is this?
Looking from side to side I can find no end.
Just sand and waves stretching vast before me.
Walking does nothing to make the distance
lessen. The Sun seems fixed in it's brightness
overhead. I walk into the water and feel a sudden
cold that melts into a cool warmth. I make my toes
squeeze the sand. The wind picks up and begins
to muss my hair. I walk further in. The water now
comes up to my waist. I go farther. The water is
now at my neck. I let myself go under. I've never
swum in the ocean, I suddenly remember. I am
not scared. I am ok with this. I feel safe. I begin
to swim and plunge deeper into the water. Coral,
schools of fish, none pay me any attention. I'm no
longer breathing in air. How long has it been?
A minute? An hour? A year? I swim farther out.
a shipwreck comes into view. It feels ancient
but it cannot be more than a few decades old
by the looks of it. What does it matter?

A faint light seems to be coming from near the bow.
I swim closer and it only intensifies. It seems to be
coming from the bridge. Light fills the water. Warmth.
It feels warm. It feels as though it has been waiting
for me. Has it? There is a door into the bridge. I reach
for the doorknob. It is not stuck. It moves easily
beneath my fingers. I open the door and the light
explodes and overwhelms me. I close my eyes but it
doesn't matter. The light is there. Is my body dissolving
into the light? Warmth. Warmth. I relax. I begin to
submit. I inhale the ocean water but I can't taste the
salt. I look for my hands but I cannot see them.
I cannot see any part of my body. I have become
the light. I am no longer in the ship.

Millions of light years away I am fire incarnate.
Fixed in the heavens I send my light into the darkness.
I can feel a distant call.  A place that had once
been home. I am now home everywhere my light goes.
There are waves I can no longer see but I can still feel.

Can you hear me?
Close your eyes.
Close your eyes.

I See

What does a beginning look like?
Does it look similar to an ending or
is it closer to what the middle looks like?
Is it distinguishable at all?
It's hard to say.
What brings on a beginning?
Does a beginning inevitably hasten
an ending?
What is it we're looking for?
What are we looking at?
My guesses are barely educated
they never made it past junior high.
I see, I see, I see...
there is sky and ocean waiting for me.

selective vision

what is there for us to see

could we understand

Unfinished Matters

The word is not yet done with you,

it has an expectation that not yet been met.

Her eyes stare at you waiting 
for your gaze to meet hers. 

flickering light

eyes whose radiance cannot

be fully ascertained-

whose faint light flickers

behind shadowed irises