From nowhere

Like motes in the air

Notes begin to appear

Ethereal to the eye

Soft as the sigh

Of breath upon your face

Gliding over your senses

You feel their touch

Origin unknown.

Whether a force of rage

Or state of grace

For a time

You each occupy the same space.

Words can touch your heart

Or destroy your soul,

Obliterate your being

Or leave you whole,

And though the author

You cannot see

You get to know them intimately.

Though the origin of the author

Is often unknown

When words are shared

Your not alone.

you can get giddy out here in space
and you can also feel a bit trapped
consigned to a spinning snare

and while it is true you are spinning
its also true you are free
free to go on your many journeys

and you do not need rocket fuel
or be a genius
a common garden imagination

Will do