I love the places
Which carry the past
Into the present
Better still, the places where
Past and present co-exist
Without need for justification
Irresolute
Unfulfilled
Incomplete
I remind myself
Step
Into my being
Out of the shadows
Beyond the mist
Steadfast
Manifest
Consummate
Initiate
Expectant
With trepidation
But driven
By curiosity
And possibility
Scars
Pockmarks
Weathering
Textures of
Distress
Hardship
Healing
They seem to be much
Grander
Than the times I’m living now
I create them like
A dream
All lofty and sublime
Believing there’s
A truth
To the beauty of the lie
Like your touch
Trailing a line
Along my flesh
In the silence
I begin to hear the wind
I render the wind silent
And begin to hear the sand
Rustling across the dunes
Silence the sand
To hear the dune
Which sings the song
Of desert’s true nature
You see
The mighty columns say
This once was plain
Withered away
Exposing us
The roots of Earth
Soon enough
More rain will come
Erode the land
You’re rooted on
Until you fall
Then come to rest
As dust beneath
Our hoodoo feet
Pix to Words 