Forward

Crisp cold breaths of air greeting my skin like acupuncture needles
telling me I am alive
Green spiney arms reaching high into clear white-blue sky
What is this I see as the dark lifts off the rock under my foot?
Possibility.
A wide sea, oceans of thought, surrounding me, opening avenues of question and conversation
I play on the waves of ether, riding my wave that is the only place I have ever belonged and here is where I swim in this sea
of conscious memory, unconscious life suckling at the breast of the past.
But oceans heal old wounds. The salt that stings, is the sting that heals, is the wound that leaves a story in its place.
I do not fear being consumed by the cost of fast food, stale smoke, and narrow minds.
I do not fear being taken under by the ease of central air, sweet tea, and wheel of fortune.
I do not regret in my moments here in the sun, in the sea, in the wide open spaces.
And I do not forget the feel of the hand that knows nothing of Justice or honor
The bloody agreement between the devil and Jesus to twist the hands of what is right in the name of nothingness.
I do not fear thoes cold icy fingers any more.
Black hands creep out of shadows, stretching, scratchy against iron and heat, breaking promises never made, and hearts that never beat on their own. And I for once do not feel sorrow in my watching of it.
We will have our conversations and watch rivers flow.
I will sing songs to the moon from my window of her waxing and waning for all eternity.
Telling me life is a circle. Reminding me of my own mortality.
Crisp, cold breaths of air greeting my skin like acupuncture needles telling me I am alive
Green Spiney arms reaching high into white-blue sky
What is this I see as the dark lifts off the rock under my foot?
Possibility.