She hurried on,
A laptop clutched to her chest,
Heavy bags with some books
And a pile of thoughts from nowhere.

She seemed to levitate,
Lifted by her own emotions.
She nearly lifted off, but she tripped
And fell on a bright fall afternoon.

A tiny, ridiculous bump,
Like a karate fighter’s sudden strike,
Sent her body reeling with a single blow.

She groaned.
She couldn’t stand up,
Her ankles were hurt.
The ego suffers shame
Lying flat, stripped of dignity—
Flesh and bone with higher aspirations
At the lowest score.

People passed without a word,
Without even bending down.
Invisibility. Disappearance.
Soon, perhaps, she will be taken
To another plane?
There lay a woman— not a human being?

Strange things happen on this cozy Earth.
Perhaps it was consciousness itself,
Or simple hellish humiliation on the wet sidewalk?

All speculation ended
with one short remark:
“She’s just drunk!”

How can you not love all these people
for their deep insight,
their tireless devotion to shapes
and short, simple lines.

Oh, Prophets at every step of our shared path,
always knowing more about my life –
and yours.

As every day passes you by,
Do you explore new adventures, to try,
Or you just set in your ways,
Counting down days till you die.
Be honest with yourself,
Do not make up stories, fibs, or lie’s,
Every twenty - four hours,
A day of this life, you put aside,
Try new things, to entertain your mind,
Never be afraid of failure, never be shy.
Your only true happiness, comes from inside of you,
After you discover it,
Love who you are, and say good - by to your blues.
A confident attitude, creates positive ways,
In this life, we each have enough wasted days,
You’re an actor in this life’s play,
Make your part exciting & memorable, use your imagination,
One day we will all just be memories, our parts will exit the stage.

                                     The Original: Tom Maxwell © 02/22/2025 AD

You were drifting clouds in my memories—sometimes soft, sometimes wild.
But without you, those memories would have been empty and lonely.

Maybe I am the desert, with an endless hunger,
and you are the rain that never quenches it.

This desert once was wet; now it's lifeless and empty.
Will you sprinkle on it some water of joy and sorrow?

I promise I will always stand by you.

Going through your pictures makes my yearning almost unbearable.

The enchanted colors in them float around my room—white, green, yellow—too much to contain.

Then the lament broke my windows and disappeared in an instant.

I wandered through darkness until twilight,
and there, at the edge of fading light, I saw a color—red.