Words all but too soon depart onto
the sea of misconception from the
harbor of bright vision.
Only as much as masts can be raised
does the tongue turn towards lands unknown to latitude.
The wind blows freely today
(fortunate for those looking
to move across the water).
Smiling spring air carries youth with
its world of spiraling truths and rejection,
the sun perches itself on its daydream throne
staring at us as all else breathe the orb in.
As all ships pass through such kingdoms,
as zephyrs sealed a flowing present;
the day held me within its arms and said
“Look, look at the sights before you!
It will always be 'too late' if you only where
to choose to indifferently wait;
those who balance on their heads too long will oft declare
'Too late! Too late'”
I listened close to the sun's rise and fall,
in its blushing orange light I found the voices of those whose words
take their visages' shape.
Moments past became shards of looking glass
as my body became smaller as night grew on its thorn laden vine.
For a moment,
my reflection was cool and clear in the waters of the sky.