A single thread weaves the light
piercing darkness and opening the night.
Shivering bones cannot sleep while in wait.
We are but minnows on the line, simply bait.
Time and worry etch lines across our faces
as we force our hearts into empty spaces.
Blood weeps in pain. We regain.
Sun always returns after the rain.
Explanations go round and round
Like a circular saw
Blade cutting through matter
Over and over
Until it doesn’t matter anymore
Dust flies, covering our souls
Slowly suffocating, we rise enough
To poke a hole for breath
Sideways thinking doesn’t always mesh
But it sands us into a temporary place
We adhere and shine like lacquer,
Tough enough to take life’s punches
As we whittle the days away
Brain speaks backwards
Smacking intention into the air
Frustration rears its ugly head
Brushes scrub furiously
While paste floats out to sea
Memory rides the roller-coaster
Dipping, turning, climbing…
We must remember
Breath is the gift
While time taps its drum
Flickering like a flame in the wind,
it dances before our eyes
and flutters across our hearts.
We can’t quite grasp it,
yet we can never let it go.
It’s a warm breath on a crispy morning.
It’s the cool breeze on a smoldering day.
It seeps in like needed rain
into the crevices of dry cracked earth.
Evasive and fleeting, at times,
it scoots in and out of the shadows.
It fills us and sustains us for the moment.
It seems we are always standing
on the edge of hope.