In the turning of the year, in the pattern of my heartbeat, in the breath expelled into the silence, in the longing on my pages, in the sway of leafless trees, in the howling midnight storm, in the frost on early pavement, in the rush of a swollen river, in the cold rock that freezes my bum, in the rustling of nocturnal whispers, in the sheets still warm as I depart, in the concrete stuck to my boots, in the flight of mating eagles, in the perfect space of complete emptiness glistening in the starlight… Lies the soundtrack of my life.
Priceless little memories, glowing moments of crystalized laughter, scattered like litter on the floor boards of my mind- Or like dew on a morning rose.
If you were to encompass absence in a crowded mind, letting go of all physical ties and mental chatter, you will see me lurking there. Silently I will wait, hands overflowing with a poet’s truth, mouth spilling out the words of epiphany.
Any straining soul or seeking heart will find my path in their wandering. I have blazed it for all to see, through the fires of hell and glories of heaven, over the rainbow and out the other side of reality… Where anything is possible.
Come now my wayward traveler, let me take your hand and show you the way. Lean on me when you are weak, steal my warmth when you are cold. For I am but a guardian of this road, a pit stop in between this place and the next. I am a place to rest your weary feet, and a wind to cool your heated brow…
I am yours for the taking.