Blow off the lingering dust
watch those particles dance in the air
sunlight hitting them
creating tiny stars
Stars you haven't seen in awhile.

a tiny sky
of hope
of new beginnings
a reminder of what you once had
and have decided to try again.

Blow the dust off your vintage heart
and begin again.

The arctic spell of this winter,
Has finally froze the river.
With the parade currents lying still,
Grasping the last air to be free again.
For the river has now lost its audience,
As they paddled into the deep sea.
While the polar glass exhibited the frozen lie,
The anecdote of time taking a pause,
In a bewitching black of a silver sky.
Alas the sublime river starts to hope again,
As the sun embraced warmer rays,
With every melt of the icy skin,
The river heart starts to beat again.
At the dawn of this winter lapse.
The currents ran once more,
With the arrival of the inhabitants,
The river was once alive again.

Let these windows be the theatres,
Where the play is wild and original,
Where every cast is a superb actor,
Where the story is the best fiction,
Like a farm boy on an old tractor.

Let these eyes be the camera,
Where the view is sharp and shaped,
Where every object gets an imperfect finish
Where the image is at its crown grace.
The portrait of the lost gimmicks.

Let these skies be the shower,
Where from the rain falls to cleanse,
Where the head gets a awe spin,
Where its virtue had always been,
The roof over a million dreams.

So I care not,
If I am the blind for this earth,
The ghost of an enemy,
With no eyes, I still feel,
The rewarding gift of eternity.