I felt a call from beyond, pulling me in.
Closer to a life of dreams and whim.
And I felt a whisper of silence, fulling my heart with intrigue and wonder, a silence so bold and fearless I envied it.
I felt the spirits of wind and sky drawing me towards them, willing me to join them.
I felt a call from beyond, and I needed to answer.

In an existence where humans are not capable of sight,
two men sit and discuss the existence of the physical world.
“Oh World,” the first man says,
“Some say you are not there. And, yes, I can not see you with my eyes, but I know you are real and I have faith that you are there.”
“You fool!” Says the second man, disgusted by the first man’s words. “You really believe in that childish fairy tale? This is all an illusion, there is no such thing as the World,
you only tell yourself that it is real because you are afraid of the truth!”
“My dear friend,” whispers the first man,
“you say there is no World but while you say this you are being lifted up by it, can you not you feel it all around you? Can you not feel it’s breath in the wind? We may both be blind, but my eyes are open to the truth of the World, even though we can not see It, It is the foundation on which we are built and I have faith that It will always be there.”
“Yes, we both are blind but you are the one who truly can not see,” says the second man.
“If having faith is blindness then may I never see, I need not see in order to feel the essence and the truth of the World.”
True blindness is ignorance, not the ability to use one’s eyes.

Not much of a poem, but I wanted to share.

I kiss your toes one by one
and wipe your feet like the face of a new born babe,
in the hope that they may trample me lighter.

For a few seconds
the light from my window hit a small glass statue of an angel on my desk leaving rays of colors on the wall
with the shape of an angel with large wings, little things like this
awaken my
spirit

Paul Jones Oct 14

The sunset looks beautiful at twilight,
piercing through the underbelly of clouds,
the sky painting vehement, orange light
against the darkened faces of the crowd.
We listen to the sound of a sitar play
and feel the rapture of the beating drum.
Everything the spirit could want to say
is spoken by the motions fingers strum,
reverberating through the evening air,
and those who move to its smooth harmony.
I hold you close, sway with your gentle care.
True beauty is this rhythm, dancing free,
far from the dissonance a dark world cries,
an orange glow reflected in your eyes.

22:30 - 14/10/17
Sonnet - 30 -

by Jedidiah Fleming

The World is my Kryptonite.
It was delivered by a Canaanite.
It is so very black and white.
Black as black midnight.
White as white starlight.
Hotter than a fist-fight.
Colder than a frostbite.
It tries to lure you to the fight.
Being naturally impolite.
Always swelling with pride and might.
Soaring like a meteorite.
Exploding like dynamite.

O, but it is a parasite!
Warping every human right.
Dealing every man-made fright.
Feeding like a scabie mite.
Destroying like a forest blight.

Yet it craves a ray of Light.

From it, I remain from sight.
It is worse than any stage fright.
A never-ending snakebite.
Seeing without sight.
Hearing without height.
Choking out the sunlight.

The world is my Kryptonite.
But parts of it may turn to Light.
So its pain I will carry on.

Cleansing my spirit
Renewing my soul
With no real ending
Or long term goal

Just floating around
Finding out who is me
And longing for what is to be

Dreaming, wishing
Filled with such longing
Waiting for full renewal
And hoping

When all is said and done
A better life I will have won

Silent, unexpected ripples
As the first flakes softly alight on the lake,
A crisp inhale with eyes closed
Followed by a joyous vaporization of cloud.
When vision flutters back into focus,
A spectacle ever-more lovely than the last.
The muffled crunching around the trail,
near-muted chattering of chipmunks,
windy flurries whistling then growing placid,
the softened screech of a hawk
subdued now to an awed whisper -
Mounting and falling like a Debussy.
Clearer and more humbly triumphant
than cathedral bells.

This suite - this bright panorama
Shows me to the brink of an elation within
And brushes my crystalline spirit.
It sings and I overflow -
Light pours drop by rapturous drop
From each eye.

10.9.17
Inktober Prompt: Screech
Rules: The poem is whatever comes out of the pen, no edits allowed.

I'm lost in space with you
Time stands still when we connect
We make love upon the universe
I can get lost in love with you
Because the only one
I want is you

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