Someone knocked on her door Shaking her shawl as they thumped And slowly she moved to see Who could be so bothersome Her iris inched across her window Spotting a man bouncing upon his feet Anxiousness infecting his face Unable to keep his body in place These two rhythmic observations stilled her From moving towards the door For what awaited her Could not await itself
She pulled up her shawl and left the house Gone to get more tea And all the people passing by And all the noises eating at her ear Could not grasp her attention Attending only to herself Brilliant and Boisterous her thoughts A majestic melody of their own So how could she not be secure? In her soul’s symphony The strings vibrated her vessel The horns heckled her heart The drums beat down her darkness And wisdom conducted alongside grace Matching one another’s pace Astute in one another’s ache At conducting timelessly, never being late It was almost as if their union was fate Almost being key for it surely did take Tireless effort, and sacrifices to make The two into each other’s esteemed mate
Rough cobblestone betrayed stealthy shoes As she rushed inside from fierce winds that blew Turning on the kettle with ease Stirring inside her mug the tea leaves Reading and waiting in relief from the cold Seated, solitary, sound in her soul Future’s Phantoms and Past’s Pesks Were barred from activity duty, assigned to old desks And she was contented with brilliant bows Placed upon life’s box, wrapped in serenity’s gold For she held what birthday’s usually see Or what others place under a Christmas tree
and there i am in the midst of it all, conscious of what appears to be existent, yet knowing it is illusory. and if time is occurring synchronously then how can i look back with contrition? for if i have the capacity to move backwards and forwards in quantum leaps, i can erase the past like pastel chalk on an antique blackboard, then start anew. is not the sky my canvas and the arc of the rainbow my palette? and the stars in lustrous luminosity light my way so that ev’n at dusk I can paint. yet pain ne’er ceases to hollow me out. then through a barren vessel i catch more rain, and pour it out upon the parched terrain. just when i thought enlightenment was nigh, a sharp edge is discovered. must it necessitate additional sandpapering from the wind? when will the gemstone sparkle without further pressure? does it lie in its power to simply shimmer sans duress? perhaps it was dazzling at its inception, relinquishing its luster upon domestication. with this proviso, as it nears twilight i shall tarry and blend with the night. i’ll dance with a moonbeam knowing the jewel will glisten afresh upon the rise of the golden sun.