where the sparks fly the drum beats louder
and all my selves are in attendence.
the signs point to an extension of edges.
of possibilities.
i saw you behind the words.
your secrets are safe with me.
movement can be so slight and slow.
the beginning lost in the stories.
unnoticed until eyes are cast back
in the future. the world a divination
whose dots are joined into something
that makes a kind of beautiful sense.
map makers.
a ticking clock embroidered on the horizon.
a reminder to devour the days.
2 comments:
Oh, this is so lovely, from beginning to end...
Be well, my friend- and how exciting, your trip to Egypt! Will you write a poem about it?
xo
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