no clock here
minutes passed to hours
moments became ours
where yours and mine
released
into us.
[breathe]
we
made light fill our minds
moved through space
and time
and
found sacred spaces
secret places
hiding in plain view.
[breathe]
all the while in this
we
made long lines
of life and limb
and seem
to be
reaching to imagined skies
fingertips blazing
self erasing
and bending
in animal pantomimes,
we offered our best
and worst
to our adopted spirits.
[breathe]
drawing fingers opened wide
reaching for that hanging
sigh –
and found
a very
sweet breath.
and breathe we did.
[breathe]
finding harmony within us
and between us
where namaste waited for us
to accept the offering
that felt so new
and yet so familiar.
flowing,
flowering,
greeted,
and grateful
[breathe]
head bowed down
a sated soul
in awe
and
in honour
heels planted like
oak roots and
ass to the sky.
wow this hurts.
and
such a strange salute
to the universe
but damn
it feels good too.
now we accept
we are fractured
and fictional
and factioned
yet
inactioned
still
we find focus,
in the breathing.
on this emotion,
in the breathing.
on that sick relative.
in the breathing.
on that random guy over there.
in. the. breathing.
[breathe]
my gods.
what time is it?
a prescient metaphor
similar to a door
likened to so
much more –
its cruelly imprecise.
I know what time it is.
we know
and though
the time has come,
we leave in slow motion.
caught in the gravity of memory
and notion
that we must
keep breathing
keep seeing
and
as the door opens
and light speed life
taunts us,
disses us,
I offer this,
there is no clock here.
wonder will
expand
and expect
a willing child
to follow
so we do
because
we will
be
and
we are
all
wonder full.
[breathe]
Categories: poetry
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