A thought rises through the fog
Beautiful, perhaps
Or dangerous
Maybe both
As beauty and danger
Often are
Risk
The blade of possibility
Honed to fine edge
So that with a stroke
We may manifest the exquisite
Or sunder it
Whether through intent
Fortune or folly
A grey day
Light flattened
By a thick
Midday haze
Made all the more grim
By my mood
Impenetrable as the atmosphere
From full steam
To dead ahead slow
All stations stop
Close my eyes
Deep breath
Not stopped
Becalmed
Diminished light emerges
Find the blue
In sky and sea
Contrast highlight with shadow
Underway, with tranquil gratitude
A monument to
Patriarchy rises where
Emerald once was plenty
Now all grey and jaundice
I often wonder
What the world would look like
Had the matriarchs run the show
And life were of feminine design
The earliest stars
Twinkle under a brazen moon
Keeping the sky
All to itself
The world moves
In its own time
And I in mine
A dance
A rhythm
Obstinate
Relentless
Cadence
Unique
To my mind’s
Perceiving
And should I not exist
To observe
As sun surrenders sky
To the stars
Would there be time
At all?
We build
Ever higher
To breach the sky
This city in the clouds
City of privilege
Where feet rarely
Touch the ground
And hearts
Rarely
Touch each other
That’s all there is
Within my mind
Naught but the sound
Of wheels on pavement
As my body cleaves
The warm still air
The undulations
Of the path
The gentle song
My spirit sings
What else could I need
So I seek the beauty
In every moment
Pix to Words 