When I view a sunset, A burning bright red sunset, or look upon the horizon between the land and water, I am reminded of Ancestors’ stories of the betwixt and the between. Neither one or the other. Not this one, nor that one, But the place in between.
The Betwixt and the between two different worlds Betwixt and between waking and sleeping. Betwixt and between dusk and dawn. Betwixt and between the upper and lower. Betwixt and between Heaven and hell. A place of intrigue, mystery and wonder If you dare So much as to take a peek. But it’s beyond most people’s imaginations To ever go as far as The betwixt and the between
This poem is based on a comment in a photography group I’m in, which had more meaning than I understood at the time