Storming rain
The sound of life
Deeply drains
Into a strife

Only my age
Lives in my booth
Becomes my cage
My future, my truth

It’s just some tears
No one should care
Fighting my fears
Do not despair

To finally cope
Severely drifts,
My promising hope
Is what has left

High heels clicking down the avenue-, women check their reflection in shop windows ....Men comb their hair in the rear view mirror ....Traffic lights reflect off wet city streets ..Traffic cop directing cars with whistle chirps . Occasional car horn , big rigs releasing air brakes ...Orderly metronomic movement .. The quiet morning migration of human beings moving with a precision .. Suburbia emptied into the big city like clockwork , by subway and bus , truck , automobile ...Shop owners tidy up their piece of America this cool October morning , sweeping sidewalks , yawning , coffee in one hand , feather duster in the other , looking over swollen streets , engine exhaust , steam from manhole covers rising into a partly cloudy morning sky...Autumn in the big city , replays itself throughout Mother Columbia this a.m. !

Maybe Existence is wave after wave
Reaching out into infinity.
Perhaps We are All
The eyes, ears, skin and tongue
Of The One.
So that S\he may experience
Life
Existence
Consciousness.

Soul after soul is born
To carry on the torch:
Infinity of souls.
And no matter what happens to those souls
The One Remains
Into Eternity.

Our job is simple:
To see, hear, touch and taste
For the One
And learn as much as we can
Of what it’s all about.

Paul Butters

If only your arms
Held me true again
Our lips and
bodies entwined~
If we could remember
language once shared.
Find our rhythm divine

Yet we have climbed
these ravaged cliffs
Heartbreak Chasm
between~
A fragile bridge
of diminished connect
Crossed only in my dreams

Older now
in this state of suspense
To watch our love fall away~
A tender time for both of us
This loss of each
Precious day


Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved