Still as the moment,
I stand on the shore
watching the stillness,
water pulled into glass
and I look back at myself.
We only see what we want
is to deceive,
that we are infinite finite beings.
I slowly trace circles against my wrists.
I muse internally and eternally
that nobody else seems to notice
the slow draining of life from our world,
that freedom is a bursting of arteries
and that we all question the power of compassion.
I am motionless
waiting for something to s h a t t e r the illusion
that I exist separate from existence.
the crinkling of crisp autumn leaves embracing the earth,
I am not
All is tainted with the faint music of holding on to Now as it passes.
The gentle whisper of the trees, mother and child, soothing,
a conversation muffled by the sweet melody of weary birds.
The breeze raises tiny mountains on my arms,
the slight smile of sunlight upon frailty
and all labeled , existence.
the salt, the mineral flavor of red.
Foot follows foot.
I wave into the glass.
It taps against my ankles
cutting a lattice work of penetrating cold.
I watch the stillness shatter,
shards of light breaking down light.
I no longer see myself in the disturbed surface.
I wade further in.
The water, saturating my clothes,
suctions me to the moment
and I know
we are all afraid
to go deeper
dive beneath the blurred blackness.
I open myself to all it has to offer.
My eyes milky with the film of microscopic life.
My lungs burn.
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”
Thank you as always for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below. If you are new to my blog and would like to know more feel free to ask me any questions. Have a wonderful day and thanks for stopping by.