Sitting underneath the way in the dimming light you'd think that every passer by might notice what has come to be so tangebly obvious to you. So pressing on your mind. No. Further more on your soul. The spirit. The body. Neither can release from it. A compression of all that is you. Confined and at bay. The ability to talk without speaking. To listen out what will be said. No chance for freedom. No brush with success. Hoping to live. Just once. A moment longer than could be imagined. But a moment none the less. Like the sun, but the moon. Far better in fact, as you are probably familiar with.
You know what I want? A day. Just one day. Nothing else will matter and all will be now. Here. This is no errant wish or flock. Hold the sinking back, the wrench in your works. Stop looking for a red sky. Stop with the endless queries. The listlessness. The lifely commute. Oh to show you what was and could be. To make it all.
To be what is.
1 comment:
Pappy, that is beauty - your thoughts, the words, the picture.
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