Change Of Heart

the head and the heart are two very different things

Maybe Celeste will know

If she could answer
What those turquoise eyes 
Have seen

Maybe Celeste will know
If I could ask her
Where in life
She's been

Time dulls the senses

To creeping indifference
And monotony brings
A heavy lightness
That becomes a burden

Like toes just touching the earth
And you are holding on for 
Dear life
When suddenly you realize
Where did it all go?

But such is happiness
That being content
Is confused with 
Giving up
Then a new search 
Is called for

It is thunderous, the silence
Grasping for inspiration straws
To keep the steamroller going

Losing steam, losing steam




Running clouds

Stitch in my side
A glitch I don't understand
Why you float into my dreams
Like snowfall in the winter
So softly it doesn't itch
Into the conscious
Until I sleep

In the crash of waking
The dust hankers on, lingering
Like glitter almost translucent
Glit, glittering
Where
Is this coming from

A bittersweet taste of longing
Chemical state of the balance
Imbalance
Come take me away
Oh, beautiful dead of night

Run, run, running
Into the shattered glass
Shard of old memories
Fading on the touch of a feather
These hands have held more intangible
Things

The fable of the girl with disaster hands
Stands at the edge of this precipice
Gazing down at the audience
All sadness is in impatient silence
Waiting for that fall from grace

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This is a fog lifting
The ships are docking
And the quiet of morning
Calm waters of yearning, over

The little boats partnered
And the men are reeling their nets
Catch of the day
In the bag

Yellow tinge over everything
Swallow calls inviting
Warm cooked meals
Of their wives
Comforting

In the space between
There is no longer a space
No loud noises to dirty the light
The remnants of yesterday
A history

Because of him, darkness is not scary
Night embraces the arms
Cricket sounds calm the senses
Black queit is no longer
White noise

And all the before
Was just a journey to
Invent this person into
That caterpillar
A butterfly

A year passes so easily
But the comfort makes
The flight, special
There is no more an I
How could there be

Music, music in the air
Always there
A ting tinkle, trinkle
Imaginary space
Filled

Completeness would be an
Understatement
Oh, oh, no words
Would be
Enough