Responsive Journey

A quiet path,

many minds have passed,

yet inside remains

alone like a ricocheting energy,

a certainty in privacy,

that which no one might alone

experience beyond

a silent beholden traveler.

 

Many nights, autumn mornings,

spring into action while the world around

might discover new purpose,

a reasoning that while easily

defined,

still remains on the outside,

wondering just how soon

there might be some quiet

revelation

toward opening doors.

 

yet there in the midst of a quiet existence

remains the wonder,

which while inside is felt.

What happens when

shared notions

become some emotive prayer

for understanding the logic

of living out our dreams

based upon

some ventured task to grasp

insecurity.

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I Can See

self-shot

                              self-shot

Which one are you in the midst of time,

a clever rendezvous in life’s sweet climb.

~

Perhaps you held the key to love all along

the rest being shelled, wanting to belong.

~

I watched a moment twenty years ago today

that’s what you meant, acting in that plaintive way.

~

If we could choose, a certainty in our attitude

I’d bet we’d lose, our need to attack Beatitudes.

~

Inside this active room, I might notice things,

a flair to be just whom, all while the pendulum swings.

~

That couple speaking sweet, then who we were

playing only to the beat, of saying, we were here.

~

Over in the corner, near the exit door,

sits an old reminder, of just what’s in store.

~

In the back room earnest, they design their moments

fresh in mind they cannot rest, when wined in their torments.

~

The conversations about, are all the same to me,

there is the devout, and over there the wannabe.

~

The setting the same, we might all remain

caught in a new game, similarly lost in gain.

~

While we watch each other, grow and blossom anew

we might still remember, or at least I will, of you.

~