I move into your music.
Mirroring emotion lilts, lifts, aligns.
Children giggling secrets,
shifting about in starched clothing,
hard, separating seats.
In our secret language
buzzing bees are harnessing wildflowers;
dragonflies suit up blades shining,
roar into ferocious valor.
A gentle stream caresses
slick marbled stone.
catches up glints of
pirated treasures, arthropod sculpture,
Our tongues lap easily
over silly syllables,
clicking, tickling our teeth.
Inside innocent eyes
laughter ignites memories
unembraced by words
A memory of haunting nostalgia.
I cannot not touch it, taste it, hold it, know it, breathe it.
Still it piques me at the corner of my eye, below the level of perception.
The words escape me.
One must be very careful of words.
They hold great power, mystic and legal and personal.
Words can weave a whole world, a whirl of worlds, a wild wind of words.
They can create reality for those who get caught up in them.
The right word at the right time can catalyze miracles.
The right word at the wrong time can destroy the eternal.
How might I find the words to capture my quest, my destiny?
Enter the Fool upon the Precipice, prattling ditties of the daily airwaves.
She is whirling blithely, eyes upon a distant rainbow, breathing in clouds.
Breathing out daisies and daffodils and a brilliance of pansies.
She is dancing to her own symphony, entranced in her deepest essence.
Without thought, without prayer, without a government authorized identity,
there are no guarantees, no happy ending.
There is a tale I try to tell.
Its point escapes me, withering into fairydust.
I breathe in the poisoned air, drink the poisoned water, eat the poisoned food.
Like a desperately swimming fish in a polluted bowl, like a creature of the streets eating garbage,
like a child.
The pattern is corrupted, but I follow it as best I can.
I have been told that if I can properly put the pieces in place
All will be revealed; all will be peace and beauty and love.
The pieces of my shattered mind.