We are all tempted by a grand design…
Something of an imaginary kind…
Incense so zealous…yet, not ours to find.
A pungent temptress.
An oak’s sweetness…
A nutmeg sheltered in bitterness.
After the hibernation, when frolic peppers the air.
It is there.
It is there.
I look at the faces of those I have yet to meet…
and, with their sheltered glance back.
I wonder what it is they see.
Solitary in this chilled climate.
My greeting of gratitude have loss their appeal.
The slow melt of morning’s snow.
These ‘one size’ fits all deceits…are all mine.
Looking in with outside eyes.
I have no time for a complacent mind.
There are eccentricities about time that many… will never get.
There is a mortal need to have it all around.
Thou, it is injured and too tightly wound.
It may surface that there are brisk critics regaled for being too passionately black.
And, those willing to make the ‘devil’s pact.’
As followed, before, the ache arrived, minutes filled the air.
As original as, the snowflakes in which we place our grateful cares.
Mind over the matters of time.
The pain of neutral.
No joy from fast forward or rewind.
For myself, revelations, on a dusky December day,
That, I too, conceded,
from the comfort of living in the in between.
There had been a frozen dust to the air.
It covered my tracks…
Or, considerate me…
I found myself not lost…for I never looked back.
A thoughtful and gracious smile requires nothing of me.
A natural and bare all laugh craves only a family.
A society that in-sync, adorns rapture with folly.
Stay in touch with your true insanity!
Stay in touch with your insanity…have a very grateful day!