untitled

nothing to say

only bland weak thoughts

or flashes of internal light

that spit and immediately grow dim.

my mind wanders like a firefly

caught in the updrafts of emotion,

fleeting sites,

the smell of something once enjoyed,

the heat of a body just out of reach,

left to close off and slowly dim

until the pulsing light is merely a
  

retinal tattoo,

a smear in the dark.

a ghost of some once present thought,

now forgotten.

thoughts fade like breath on a window,

a dying star

only to be noticed

too late

and left unexplored.

left to wonder

from whence it came

what depths were left unplumbed

what treasures

will remain buried.

inspiration

with not enough inhalation

and far too much

exhalation.

to pause between is the key.

maya

she had a voice that sang to me without music,

warm, rich, deep, and satisfying like a melting pot of chocolate.

when she read i was in rapture

as if i was in church

but not a church of any kind I have known.

the church i always wanted to attend

with no dress code,

no blind-less faith,

just an open heart full of understanding

or at least the will to hear

and with grace blossom into understanding

and be so much the better for it.

this church was one of words,

rhythms, breaths, pauses, and rhymes;

a church that rocked you in its fluid music,

filled your soul with its psalms of life,

molded you in its earthy truth,

and in the end cast you

as your own savior

rising from the dust,

standing tall on spindly legs

and busting out to the heavenly life that surrounds you,

calling you to take hold,

to live

and be phenomenally,

to be

unique and proud.

to see.

to listen.

to rise.

recycling